Signs of Life
by navigatio
Summary: A field trip to a planet rich in dilithium deposits lands Trip in the hands of natives who have never seen an alien before. Chapter 9 is up. **Complete!**
1. Hunting Party

Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise (well, I do have a tiny one that my husband gave me for Christmas) or any of the regular characters, and I'm not making any money from this story.  
  
Warning: This is another not-so-nice story. I tried to write a happy story but I didn't like the way it was coming out, so I wrote this one. Be prepared for some pain (hopefully not on the reader's part, however!).  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Signs of Life  
  
Chapter 1: Hunting Party  
  
Day 1: 1100 hours  
  
"Just look, Cap'n! They're practically sitting on the surface!" Trip pulled back from the viewer and turned to Archer with eyes shining greedily. "Come on, we gotta go get some," he said eagerly.  
  
"Relax, Trip, that dilithium isn't going anywhere," Archer replied with a grin at his engineer's enthusiasm. "Let's take it one step at a time, all right?"  
  
Archer leaned back in his chair and studied the viewscreen, which showed a blue and green marbled planet much like Earth. The northern hemisphere was a complete blank-for some reason their scans hadn't been able to read any information from that half of the planet. The southern hemisphere was dotted with small, infrequent pockets of red, indicating people groups, and several large splotches of orange which delineated enormous dilithium deposits.  
  
"Captain, I would advise against a mining expedition to this planet," T'Pol put in. "The inhabitants appear to maintain a hunter/gatherer society, with no advanced technology. Our presence may irreparably harm their culture."  
  
"They won't even know we're there. We can land here, see?" Trip said, crossing to the viewscreen and pointing at an uninhabited area. "There's no people living anywhere around there. We can scoop up some crystals and be gone in a couple of hours."  
  
"What you are proposing is theft, Commander," T'Pol said evenly.  
  
"Oh, come on, T'Pol. It's not like they're gonna need them, and besides, there's plenty. Just a couple of those babies'll power this ship for a long time." Tucker turned to the captain. "We've been gone a whole lot longer than we intended, Cap'n. Our supplies are getting low, and who knows when we'll be back in space dock? It might not be for years. You don't wanna be stuck in space with a worn-out crystal and no spares, do you?"  
  
Archer contemplated for a moment. "You make a good point, Trip. What's the minimum amount you could collect that would make it worth our while?"  
  
"I think a couple of kilos would be just fine. That wouldn't even make a dent in those deposits down there, but it'll be plenty for us for a long time."  
  
Hoshi spoke up from her spot at the end of the briefing table. "I'm a little concerned that we're not able to get any scans of over half the planet, Captain. We have no idea what might be out there."  
  
"Who cares?" Trip shot back before Archer could respond. "I mean, we're not going to the northern hemisphere, so what does it matter what's there?"  
  
Archer shot Tucker a look and he immediately stopped pacing and dropped back down into his seat. "That's a valid issue, Hoshi," the captain said. "Have you been able to get any information from the sensors?"  
  
"Nothing at all, Captain. It's almost like the northern half of the planet doesn't exist, at least for the sensors. The only information we have is what can be seen with the naked eye, which isn't much. The southern hemisphere is a different story. As you can see, we have lots of details there."  
  
From next to Hoshi, Malcolm put in his two cents. "I'd like to take a security detail on any away team, Captain. We don't know what we may encounter on the surface."  
  
"Hold on there, Malcolm. T'Pol's right-we need to keep our presence on the planet to a minimum. I don't see a problem with helping ourselves to a few crystals,"-Archer held up a hand to forestall the comment that he knew was about to come from T'Pol-"provided we avoid all contact with the natives. That's more likely to happen with a small landing party than with a large one." Everyone around the table nodded in agreement.  
  
"So who's going?" Trip asked quickly.  
  
"Would two people be able to set up the equipment and do the job?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"Then I'm sending you and T'Pol," Archer said. Identical expressions flitted across both Tucker and T'Pol's faces, one of skepticism mixed with slight irritation. T'Pol's expression was quickly suppressed, while Trip's lingered a little longer. Archer decided to ignore them. "How long will the project take?" he asked Trip.  
  
"No more than three or four hours."  
  
"All right, get your supplies together. You can leave in two hours. I'll have Travis drop you off and come back for you when the job's finished. I don't want to risk leaving a shuttle on the surface for that long. In the meantime, Hoshi, keep trying to scan the northern hemisphere. You're dismissed."  
  
  
  
Day 1: 1330 hours  
  
"Geez, Travis, can't you keep it steady?" Trip called from the back of the shuttlepod. He shot out a hand to keep a piece of fragile equipment from hitting the floor as the pod bounced again.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. Usually re-entry isn't this rough. Must be air turbulence." Mayweather's shoulders tensed as he fought to keep the craft stable.  
  
The pod bounced several times, hard, almost knocking T'Pol out of her seat. Trip caught her with his other hand. She straightened herself up primly without looking at him, and said nothing. You're welcome, Trip thought sarcastically. This was going to be quite a fun little outing, he could tell already. T'Pol seemed to be in one of her 'moods', which she of course would deny to her dying breath. He could just hear her, "Vulcans don't have 'moods'," she would say. Yeah, right.  
  
After several uneventful minutes, the shuttle finally landed in a small clearing surrounded on all sides by trees. Trip immediately opened the hatch and began to unload the mining equipment, with help from T'Pol and Travis. When everything had been off-loaded, T'Pol went back for the emergency kit.  
  
"We're not gonna need that," Trip told her. "We're only gonna be here for a few hours."  
  
"By definition, Commander, an emergency is an unexpected event. We should always be prepared for the unexpected."  
  
Trip shrugged. "Whatever. It's just one more thing we'll have to reload when Travis comes back." He waved to Mayweather, who was climbing into the shuttlepod. "We'll call you when we're done."  
  
Travis waved back. "See you then," he called as he sealed the hatch. Trip and T'Pol stood back as the pod lifted off and soared away.  
  
"I guess we'd better get started," Trip said eagerly. He began to spread the equipment out on the ground. T'Pol took out her tricorder and commenced to slowly pace back and forth across the clearing, head bent over the device. Oh, don't worry about the heavy stuff, I got it, Trip thought in irritation. With an effort he kept his tongue because he knew that anything he said would just be thrown back in his face anyway.  
  
Trip opened the cases and checked to make sure all of the sensitive equipment was intact. It would be just his luck to end up with a broken drill bit. T'Pol would sure give him an earful if that happened. To his relief everything appeared undamaged. He took the surveying gear from its case and began to assemble it.  
  
"I have located a vein of dilithium ore which is very near the surface, approximately one meter down," T'Pol reported, breaking Trip's concentration on his task. He looked up at her, squinting into the sun which made her look like she had a halo, sort of like a surreal pointy- eared angel/demon combo.  
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"Approximately fifty meters south of here. I have marked the spot." T'Pol scooped up two of the equipment bags along with the emergency kit, then turned on her heel and walked away toward the south.  
  
With a scowl, Trip loaded himself up with the rest of the containers and struggled to follow. He hoped they could finish this job quickly because T'Pol was definitely in one of her moods today.  
  
When they reached the spot, they quickly set up the drilling equipment. As soon as it was assembled, Trip activated the drill and hovered over it anxiously while T'Pol wandered off again with her tricorder.  
  
Nearly two hours later, Trip finally looked up from his work long enough to scan the sky, and was surprised to see a line of black clouds squatting threateningly along the northern horizon. The weather had been completely clear when they had touched down, and scans had shown cloudless skies for a hundred kilometers in every direction. While he watched the clouds grew bigger and blacker, and were definitely moving their way.  
  
"Hey T'Pol," he called. She stopped her pacing and looked up at him with her eyebrow raised. "Check out the clouds to the north."  
  
"I have been observing the cloud formation for the past thirty-one minutes. I believe they are moving in our direction."  
  
Great, thanks for telling me, Trip thought. Aloud he said, "Do you think we should be worrying about it?"  
  
At that moment, a bright spike of lightning flashed through the sky, followed a second later by a loud clap of thunder. Almost immediately the sky darkened as clouds gathered with unbelievable speed.  
  
"I believe we should take cover, Commander!" T'Pol shouted over the rising wind. Trip just nodded. They gathered up as much as they could carry and both ran toward the relative shelter of nearby trees. Halfway there, Trip slipped, twisted his right knee, and dropped one of the containers, which popped open and spilled pieces of machinery all over the ground.  
  
"Shit!" Trip dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain, and frantically began to collect the tiny metal bits. Fat drops of rain started to fall, hitting the ground with audible splats. Within seconds he was soaked to the skin, with water pouring into his eyes from his saturated hair. Another flash of lightning lit the darkened sky, followed less than half a second later by another peal of thunder.  
  
Suddenly T'Pol was beside him. She snapped the case closed and hoisted it, along with another of the bags, up over her shoulder. "Commander, we must get under cover!" she yelled at him. With a sigh of frustration he grabbed the rest of the equipment and limped after her.  
  
Trip slid to a stop under the shelter of the trees just as lightning flashed again, so bright it almost blinded him. With a loud sizzling sound the bolt struck the drill, which was still set up in the clearing. A shower of sparks flew. The thunder which sounded at the same time covered the sound of Trip cursing vehemently.  
  
Beyond the edge of the protection of the trees, the rain began to pour even harder, creating a noisy racket as the drops hit the leaves and ground. Even under the trees they were surrounded by dripping water.  
  
T'Pol flipped open her communicator. "T'Pol to Enterprise," she shouted over the din. There was no response. She repeated the hail with the same result. Trip pulled out his communicator and tried as well, but was met only with static, then silence.  
  
"I do not believe they can hear us." The Vulcan closed her communicator and returned it to her belt.  
  
"Great, just great!" Trip push back the wet strands of hair plastered to his forehead and wiped the rainwater from his face. A cold trickle dribbled down the back of his neck, causing him to shiver involuntarily. The surrounding temperature had dropped precipitously with the advent of the storm, and in his wet uniform, Trip was feeling every degree.  
  
"Remove your wet clothing," T'Pol said. She zipped open the emergency kit and extracted two foil blankets.  
  
"What about you?" he asked her quickly.  
  
"My garment is made from a water resistant, quick-drying fabric which warms even when wet. Your garment is made from cotton, which absorbs water and is slow to dry. If you remain in your uniform, you are likely to suffer a loss of body temperature which may lead to coma and death. I assume you would like to avoid this outcome?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Trip retorted as he sat down and began to unlace his boots.  
  
"A cogent argument, to be sure." T'Pol tore off the wrapper from one of the blankets and shook it open.  
  
Trip tugged off one sock. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Your arguments are not known for their logic." She wrapped the blanket around herself and sat on the ground.  
  
"I managed to convince the captain to let us come here, didn't I?" He peeled off the other sock and tossed it with its mate on top of his discarded boots.  
  
"An excellent case in point."  
  
"You just don't wanna be here." Trip stood up and unzipped his uniform.  
  
"Very perceptive, Commander."  
  
"Yeah, well, I have my moments." His undershirt joined the pile of cast off clothing.  
  
"Unfortunate that they are so rare."  
  
Trip put his hand on the damp trunk of a nearby tree to steady himself while he pulled off his pants. He peeled off the right pant leg, then gingerly balanced his weight on his injured right knee while he pulled off the left pant leg. "Ya know, you could have said no," he said with rising anger. "I'd have been much happier to have Malcolm along with me instead of you."  
  
"No doubt." T'Pol held out the second blanket, still in its plastic jacket. "Are you injured?"  
  
"I'm fine, thank you very much." He snatched the packet from her outstretched hand and tore the wrapper off with his teeth. "The underwear is staying on!" he said before she could comment. Trip wrapped the blanket around himself and sat down beside her.  
  
"Very well." She dug in the pack again and came up with two protein bars, one of which she handed to Trip.  
  
He curled his lip in disgust. "Is this all we got?"  
  
"Yes, and I suggest you get used to it. There are two more for breakfast."  
  
"Yuck."  
  
"If you do not wish to eat it, I will save it for later." T'Pol held out her hand impatiently.  
  
"I'm gonna eat it, all right? Quit hassling me."  
  
"Then eat and do not complain."  
  
"God, will you quit already! You're drivin' me crazy!"  
  
"You seem to be able to reach that point quite well on your own." T'Pol fished around in the bag again and came up with two pouches of water, again handing one to Trip.  
  
"I knew it! You're never gonna let me forget that rock people thing, are you? You still don't trust me."  
  
"I was under the impression it was you who did not trust me, Commander."  
  
"Come on, T'Pol, I got over that a long time ago. I thought you did too. You even gave me a compliment the other day."  
  
"I did?" T'Pol's eyebrow climbed.  
  
"Yeah, you called me 'resourceful'."  
  
There was a long pause. After a moment, Trip looked up from his 'dinner' so he could see her face, which was as completely devoid of expression as ever. Finally she spoke. "That was not a compliment, Commander."  
  
"Oh." Trip's shoulders sagged. He took a small bite of the protein bar and chewed it thoughtfully. "You don't trust my judgment, do you?"  
  
"You often make impulsive decisions, without thinking through the consequences."  
  
"Like coming here, you mean."  
  
"That is one example, yes. Several others come to mind. You also speak rashly and your comments display a stunning lack of logical reasoning."  
  
"Well, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm not a Vulcan, thinkin' everything to death before takin' any action. Oh wait, if I were a Vulcan I'd hafta look down my nose at everybody all the time, so I guess I'm not sorry about that!"  
  
"Your remarks exemplify my words, Commander. I believe it was one of your human philosophers who said, 'it is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than open one's mouth and remove all doubt.'"*  
  
Trip opened his mouth, but no words came out. He gaped at her for a moment, then closed his mouth and turned away without speaking.  
  
After a moment of silence, Trip heard a rustling sound as T'Pol disposed of the wrapper to her protein bar and put away what was left of her water. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her calmly emptying a container and setting it out to collect rainwater.  
  
By this time, it had been nearly an hour since the storm broke, and it showed no signs of letting up. Since the sky was almost completely dark, it was impossible to tell where the sun was or if it had in fact set already.  
  
"I will take first watch," T'Pol said matter-of-factly. "I will awaken you in four hours."  
  
"Fine," Trip responded flatly. He pulled his blanket up around his neck and lay down on his side facing away from her, but with the wind and constantly dripping water, along with the throbbing pain in his left knee, found he could not sleep. He kept replaying the argument in his mind. He could think of no appropriate comeback to T'Pol's last comment. The only thing that came to mind was, "Are you calling me a fool?" which he was pretty sure wouldn't earn any points. He found that he was frustrated with himself more than with T'Pol. She seemed to be able to push all of his buttons, and he just couldn't stop himself from rising to the bait and making stupid remarks. Trip lay awake on the cold, wet ground for nearly two hours before sleep finally overtook him.  
  
  
  
Day 1: 1930 hours  
  
"How long have they been down there, Hoshi?"  
  
Hoshi Sato looked up from her post next to Malcolm, where they were in the middle of their umpteenth attempt to properly calibrate the sensors to read the northern continent. "About six hours, sir," she said patiently. About fifteen minutes longer than the last time you asked, she thought with a slight twinge of irritation.  
  
"Let's try hailing them."  
  
"Aye, sir." Hoshi moved to her station and opened a channel. "Sato to Sub- Commander T'Pol," she said. There was silence, then static, then silence again. "Sub-Commander, come in please." More silence.  
  
Hoshi frowned at her commpanel. The channel was definitely open, but there was no evidence that T'Pol was receiving her hail. "Sato to Commander Tucker," she said, a little more urgently. More static, more silence. By now the captain was sitting up in his chair watching her anxiously.  
  
"Malcolm, can you pick up their biosigns?" the captain asked.  
  
"It'll just be a moment while I recalibrate the sensors for their location."  
  
While she waited, Hoshi tried again to contact both T'Pol and Commander Tucker, but without success. Finally Malcolm spoke up again.  
  
"Sir, I'm scanning their position, at least I think I am, but there's nothing there."  
  
"You can't pick up their comm signals?"  
  
"No, I mean I can't pick up anything, sir. The landing site is as completely invisible to our sensors as the northern continent is."  
  
The captain was on his feet now, walking around to stand behind Malcolm's shoulder. Hoshi repeated her hail once more then moved in to look over Malcolm's other shoulder.  
  
"It should be right here, sir." Malcolm pointed to the spot on the map, which based on the last scans should contain a large orange splotch to indicate a dilithium deposit, but as he had said it was now a complete blank.  
  
"Scan the surrounding areas," Archer ordered.  
  
Malcolm touched the controls to widen the scan, and they quickly found that everything from the landing site north was now unreadable. Areas south of the site were still accessible.  
  
"Captain, we could take a shuttle down here," Malcolm pointed to a spot which was still visible on the map. "then hike to their last known position. It's only about ten kilometers from the original landing site."  
  
"I don't want to risk any more people until we know what is causing these sensor blackouts. Hoshi, you and Malcolm keep working on it. I'll assign a team from Astrometrics to help you."  
  
"Aye, sir. We'll work from the Astrometrics lab if that's all right. The equipment there is much more sensitive."  
  
Archer nodded. "Get to work. Let me know what you find out."  
  
  
  
Day 2: 0645 hours  
  
Trip awoke with a start. He sat up, rubbed his face quickly and looked around the campsite, hoping T'Pol would still be sleeping and not have noticed that he nodded off while on watch.  
  
T'Pol was nowhere in sight. Her blanket was neatly folded and tucked away in the emergency bag, and she had apparently laid out his clothes before she left. But where the hell had she gone? She must be pissed at him for falling asleep. Well, pissed probably wasn't the right word. Maybe disappointed. But that was no reason for her to take off.  
  
Trip stood up and headed over to where his clothes were laid out, limping to avoid placing weight on his left knee which seemed to have gotten worse in the night. He touched the fabric and found that it was still damp.  
  
Trip flipped open his communicator and raised it to his mouth, then he stopped. He had heard a sound, a small scratching noise followed by the snap of a branch being broken, coming from some nearby bushes.  
  
"T'Pol?" Trip called warily. He took a careful step toward the source of the noise. Suddenly something struck him on the head from behind and he crumpled to the ground senseless. The communicator slipped from his fingertips and landed on the dirt beside him, where it was picked up by an oversized, fur-covered hand.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
*this quote is variously attributed, but may have been either Abraham Lincoln or Mark Twain.  
  
~*~*~*~*~ 


	2. Captured

Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise (well, I do have a tiny one that my husband gave me for Christmas) or any of the regular characters, and I'm not making any money from this story.  
  
Warning: This is another not-so-nice story. I tried to write a happy story but I didn't like the way it was coming out, so I wrote this one. Be prepared for some pain (hopefully not on the reader's part, however!).  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 2:  
  
Day 2: 0800 hours  
  
Trip struggled to open his eyes, but there was some sort of light shining directly at him that made his head throb. He blinked several times while he tried to clear his head and recall what had happened. The pain narrowed to one spot in the back of his skull and suddenly he remembered: the noise, someone hiding in the bushes, getting hit on the head.  
  
Trip tried to raise his hand to touch the spot on the back of his head but quickly realized that his hands were restrained and he couldn't move his feet either. He blinked again and squinted to see past the bright light. When he finally managed to get his eyes to focus, he was startled to discover someone was there, staring back at him. Not just one someone, a bunch of someones, big aliens with bright purple fur, all watching him in complete silence.  
  
After a moment Trip started to feel uncomfortable, so he broke the silence. "Hello," he said with much more enthusiasm than he actually felt.  
  
The words caused a flurry of activity from the aliens consisting of loud gibberish accompanied by excited hand-waving. Great. Now if only I had my UT, I could figure out what the hell they're saying, Trip thought.  
  
One of the aliens, this one with blue fur, stepped forward and crouched in front of Trip. He studied the engineer for a moment, turned and said something to the crowd, then stood up and strode out. Most of the others followed. Probably going to get the stewpot ready, Trip mused with just a touch of anxiety.  
  
Trip peered past the light, trying to see through the gloom. Was T'Pol there somewhere? He found that it was too dark to see into the corners.  
  
  
  
Field Worker BoRu# crossed the clearing to his makeshift hut with Banker quBiX~ following close on his heels.  
  
"That was an alien, you know," quBiX~ hissed unpleasantly.  
  
BoRu# didn't bother to slow down. "Of course I know that, Banker," he responded with the bare minimum of polite gestures. BoRu# dreaded these monthly visits from the bankers. They always sent someone with no field experience and even fewer manners. QuBix~ was one of the worst, finding fault with everything and threatening to pull his funding if he didn't "produce results," whatever that meant. She probably expected him to turn the native village he was studying into a tourist attraction.  
  
"We must inform the sponsors right away!" the woman cried.  
  
BoRu# gritted his teeth in irritation. "I intend to notify the Council of Scientists first, if that's all right with you," he said with exaggerated politeness. "You know how territorial they are." He pulled back the doorflap to his hut and sat down at his jury-rigged televid.  
  
QuBix~ dithered in the doorway while BoRu# cranked up the outdated piece of equipment to place the call.  
  
  
  
Day 2: 0815 hours  
  
T'Pol crouched motionlessly in the bushes and studied the activity in the village intently. She had been watching from this spot for nearly an hour, while natives, the majority covered with purple fur, came and went across the clearing. The epicenter of most of the activity seemed to be the largest hut on the north side of the village. Just after she had arrived, two natives with blue fur had crossed the clearing and entered a small hut on the other side of the village.  
  
T'Pol had her phaser with her, but so far it was still in its holster. She wanted to be positive she knew exactly where Commander Tucker was before attempting a rescue on her own. If in fact he was still alive. . . she had found traces of a sticky red liquid on his blanket, and although her tricorder was no longer working, she had recognized it as human blood. T'Pol decided she would wait until after dark to sneak into the village.  
  
As T'Pol settled in to wait, she was surprised to hear a loud rumbling sound. More thunder? The sky was clear and she had seen no lightning. In the village, various natives came out of their huts and looked expectantly toward the north, and after a moment two large truck-like vehicles rolled into view. T'Pol frowned. According to their scans, the inhabitants of this planet maintained a hunter-gatherer lifestyle with the highest level of technology being stone tools. Trucks certainly didn't fit the information they had gleaned from the sensors.  
  
Several aliens dressed in white envirosuits jumped down from the truck, unloaded some equipment, and headed toward the large hut. T'Pol caught a glimpse of the sun reflecting off what appeared to be firearms tucked into their belts. Several moments later, they re-emerged wheeling something that looked like a stretcher with an opaque white tent over it. Although T'Pol couldn't see the contents she was fairly sure she knew what, or rather who, was inside. The white-suited aliens loaded the stretcher into the back of one of the vehicles and closed the doors. That truck's engine started and it rumbled away in the direction it had come from.  
  
Still frowning, T'Pol slipped back into the forest. She knew it was just a matter of time before they went in search of the campsite, and she intended to be gone before they arrived.  
  
T'Pol ran silently through the trees nearly five kilometers to their campsite. She knew that if she packed up and moved all of their gear, the natives would realize that a second alien existed, so she gathered just as much as she thought she would need and packed it into the emergency kit. She could not stay here unless she also wished to be captured. Therefore she would have to relocate somewhere far enough away that they would not be able to find her, and continue trying to contact the ship. She decided to walk south for at least ten more kilometers, which hopefully would put her out of the range of any search parties.  
  
  
  
Day 2: 0930 hours  
  
Trip banged the side of his fist against the thick white plastic side of his little prison. "Hey!" he shouted for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Hey, let me out of here!" Once again there was no response. He rolled onto his back and reflected that it was good thing he wasn't claustrophobic, because this box they had put him in wasn't much bigger than his body. Fortunately there were air holes in both ends or he would have suffocated by now. As it was, after almost an hour of riding over bumpy roads in the near dark, the confinement was starting to bother him, just a little. Ok, a lot.  
  
"Please, let me out!" he yelled, louder this time. Still no answer. Trip wondered what had happened to T'Pol. It wasn't like her to just pick up and leave without telling him. Maybe she had been captured too. Maybe she was in another box just like this one in some other vehicle.  
  
Trip heard some shuffling and banging noises from outside the box, then felt a sensation of vertigo as the box was lifted and moved. "Hey, let me out!" he called again. The only reply was more incomprehensible gibberish as his captors spoke to each other.  
  
Trip craned his neck so he could see out the airhole by his head. After a moment the light increased and he spotted a pair of white legs, and beyond them an enormous black wheel and a giant silver wing. Some sort of aircraft, maybe? Whatever happened to the natives being in the stone age? Their scans had been way off on that one.  
  
The box tilted as they rolled up some kind of incline, then leveled off again. There was a metallic whirring sound accompanied by a dimming of the lights again, then Trip heard the unmistakable roar of jet engines being powered up.  
  
  
  
Day 2: 0930 hours  
  
Archer leaned back in his captain's chair, which was still not quite right despite Trip's tinkering, and yawned discretely. They had been searching for Trip and T'Pol for nearly fourteen hours with no results and still no answers as to why sensors weren't reading large chunks of the planet.  
  
Archer reminded himself not to worry. Trip and T'Pol were probably right where they had left them, waiting for their ride to come pick them up.  
  
"Sato to Archer. Captain, I'm picking up a comm signal!" came Hoshi's voice, excitedly, from Astrometrics.  
  
"Just one?"  
  
"Yes, sir, it's Sub-Commander T'Pol. She is approximately ten kilometers south of the landing site."  
  
Where's Trip? Archer wondered anxiously. Frowning, he jabbed the comm button with his thumb. "Enterprise to Sub-Commander T'Pol," he said.  
  
"T'Pol here," came the quick response.  
  
"Is Trip with you?"  
  
"No, Captain. Beam me up and I will explain."  
  
"We'll be down in a few minutes in a shuttle."  
  
"No, Captain, we can't risk the shuttle being observed by the natives. Please use the transporters."  
  
"Understood. Archer out."  
  
  
  
When T'Pol appeared on the transporter pad, Archer was surprised at her appearance. Her clothes and face were muddy, and her hair was, to put it politely, disheveled. Privately Archer thought she looked like something the cat had dragged in, but he wasn't about to say that to her.  
  
"Captain, Commander Tucker has been captured by the natives of this planet," T'Pol said, stepping down from the transporter pad. "We must scan for his biosign in the vicinity of the village where he was taken, before it is too late."  
  
"Whoa, slow down, T'Pol," Archer said. "Trip's been captured? Where is this village?"  
  
"Approximately five kilometers north of our original landing site. However, he is no longer there. He was transported away to the north by truck."  
  
Archer shot a concerned glance at Hoshi and Malcolm. "By truck? I thought these people were hunter-gatherers. Where did they get a truck?"  
  
"Unknown, Captain, and at this point irrelevant. We must find Commander Tucker quickly."  
  
"That might be a problem, Sub-Commander," Malcolm said. "Ship's sensors aren't reading that area anymore. Whatever interference was blocking our scans seems to be spreading."  
  
"Have you discovered the cause?"  
  
"Not yet. Ensign Sato and I have been working on it non-stop since the moment we lost contact with you."  
  
T'Pol fixed Malcolm with a very Vulcan glare. "And you have made no progress?"  
  
"Uh--uh, well--we--uh--" Malcolm stammered in reply. His ears reddened as he found himself at a loss for words.  
  
The captain stepped in between them, taking the full force of the glare. "We're working on it, T'Pol. Malcolm and Hoshi are doing the best they can. In the meantime, how about if you and I go to Sickbay and let the doctor check you out. You can fill me in on the way."  
  
"Very well." T'Pol turned on her heel and headed out the door.  
  
Hoshi, who had been trailing behind looking thoughtful, suddenly spoke up. "Captain, the people of the northern hemisphere must have a higher level of technology than those in the south. That's why we were misled about them."  
  
"We should not have acted without complete scans," T'Pol added.  
  
"Hindsight is always 20/20, folks," Archer interrupted. "What's important right now is finding Trip. Malcolm, you and Hoshi get back to work on those sensors. We've got to gather more information on that northern hemisphere."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
  
  
Day 2: 1500 hours  
  
Trip wasn't sure exactly how long the airplane ride had been because he had fallen asleep after about two hours and only awakened when the box started bumping around again as it was carried off the craft. Now by his reckoning it had been about thirty minutes that he had been traveling in another land vehicle over smooth, apparently paved roads.  
  
Finally the truck groaned to a stop and he could hear the sounds of doors opening and the aliens getting out. They were calling to each other in their strange language, then his box was lifted and rolled out of the truck. Through his airhole he could see more white legs, and behind them double doors that slid open silently to accept them.  
  
The doors slid shut and Trip felt a sensation of movement downward. An elevator? The movement seemed to go on forever until finally the doors slid open again. If they had started at ground level, which he was sure they had, then they must be several hundred meters underground by now. Trip's heart sank--it would be impossible for Enterprise to pick up his biosign underground. Of course, as he was pretty sure he was in the northern hemisphere, they wouldn't be able to find him anyway.  
  
The box rolled down a long narrow corridor and made several turns before it finally stopped. Trip heard a mechanical beeping, then the sound of a heavy door swinging open on metal hinges. The cart was rolled past the door and it swung shut again. Trip could see bright light shining through the translucent plastic sides of the box. For several seconds the only sound he could hear was his own harsh breathing.  
  
There was a scratching sound as the latch on his plastic prison was unlocked and the top swung open. Trip sat up, blinking in the sudden brightness of the light. When his eyes adjusted, he found that he was surrounded by at least a dozen huge figures, bodies entirely covered in white, with white helmets and silver faceplates that reflected the light.  
  
"What the hell--?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Warning: Things are about to get a lot messier.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Do you like it so far? Chapters 3 and 4 are almost ready to go. I'll post them as soon as I get some reviews for the first two chapters. So please- post those reviews! 


	3. Xenophobia

Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise or any of the regular characters, and I'm not making any money from this story.  
  
Warning: This is another not-so-nice story. I tried to write a happy story but I didn't like the way it was coming out, so I wrote this one. Be prepared for some pain (hopefully not on the reader's part, however!).  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
See end of chapter for Author's Note.  
  
Warning: Things are about to get a lot messier.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 3: Xenophobia  
  
Day 2: 1500 hours  
  
Second Lab Assistant qoRa~ watched from the back of the group as the scientists opened the container holding the alien. She had requested to monitor the action from the observation room adjoining the holding cell, but Second Scientist RuX# had insisted that she be present in the room. She still didn't understand the reasons why.  
  
When they opened the container and the alien sat up, qoRa~ felt her stomach begin to churn. That--thing--was so different, so alien! Its small body was almost completely furless, except for sparse yellowish hair on its head. The ears were rounded and lowset, the limbs thin and misshapen, with joints in the wrong places and five short, thin digits on each paw. QoRa~ wondered if the alien was able to grasp objects.  
  
The alien began to climb out of the container and all of the scientists took a step back. It made sounds that may have been words in some strange, otherworldly language. QoRa~ felt a twinge of excitement. She was hearing a language from another world, one that had never been heard on her planet before.  
  
The alien stepped down onto the floor and took a step toward First Scientist Xu'~. It kept talking in what almost sounded like a friendly tone. The scientist jabbed it with a zapstick, which caused it to yelp in pain. Then four of the lab assistants seized the alien's limbs and carried it, struggling, over to a waiting gurney.  
  
The alien was shouting now, sounding angry, as they strapped it down to the gurney. One of the scientists motioned to qoRa~ to hold down the alien's leg while he shortened the strap to fit around the ankle. QoRa~ was surprised at the strength she felt in those muscles. The alien was more powerful than it looked, which caused qoRa~'s excitement to be replaced by fear. They had no idea what this creature was capable of.  
  
When the alien was tightly secured, although still shouting in its language, first scientist Xu'~ unlocked the door and they wheeled the gurney down the corridor to the examination room that had been hastily assembled for that purpose. The room was usually used for animal experimentation, and the 'uBu: which were normally kept there could be heard screeching from their new home down the hall.  
  
The scientists stopped the gurney in the spot indicated by Xu'~. She swung a bright lamp into place over the alien and gestured for First Lab Assistant RaB# to step in closer with the video camera before she began her examination.  
  
  
  
Day 2: 1900 hours  
  
Malcolm Reed leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. More than twenty-four hours of peering at viewscreens and making delicate adjustments was taking its toll on his vision. He knew he had to get some rest soon or he would be no good to anyone.  
  
With a sigh, Malcolm leaned forward again and set the computer for one last scan. He had already been over this area with a fine-tooth comb, but that was the case for nearly the entire planet now, and yet he stubbornly persisted.  
  
A beeping sound from the computer pulled his attention to the viewscreen. Bloody hell, Malcolm thought. That wasn't there a few hours ago. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.  
  
A small section of the northern hemisphere almost directly opposite the landing site was now readable to the sensors, and Malcolm stared openmouthed at what he saw. Almost the entire section glowed red indicating a major population center. A cluster of blue dots marked sources of electronic-type signals, with crosshatching in black to delineate carbon-based pollution. He was looking at an industrialized city.  
  
Without taking his eyes off the screen, Malcolm fumbled for the comm button. "Reed to Captain Archer."  
  
"Archer here."  
  
"Captain, part of the northern hemisphere has become visible to the sensors. I think you should come to Astrometrics and look at this."  
  
"On my way."  
  
  
  
Trip Tucker limped back and forth across the small room where the aliens had returned him after their examination. The container that he had been brought there in was gone, leaving an empty, square room with three blank white walls and the fourth wall made out a shiny material like a mirror. He was pretty sure there was an observation room on the other side of that mirror. He was feeling acutely self-conscious at the moment since the aliens had cut off his only piece of clothing and he was now as naked as the day he was born. Fortunately so far they hadn't hurt him, just made a very thorough examination.  
  
Trip turned to face the mirror. "What's wrong with you people?" he shouted in frustration, although he knew there would be no response just as there hadn't been the last fifty times he called. Since he had been returned to the room, he had seen no one and heard not a single sound save his own shouting.  
  
All the yelling was making Trip very thirsty, and he realized he had had nothing to drink since the previous night. He estimated that had been almost twenty-four hours ago.  
  
"Hey," he shouted. "Hey!! I'm thirsty! Can I have some water?" No response. Trip took three quick steps forward and slammed the side of his fist against the mirror, which reverberated under the blow but did not break. He pounded his fist against the glass several more times, furiously, but was unable to break the window.  
  
After a few more fruitless blows, Trip finally gave up and stepped back, breathing hard from the exertion. He decided he'd better conserve his strength so he hobbled to the corner farthest from the door and sat down on the floor with his back against the cold wall. He smiled slightly when he realized that when he sat in this corner he was almost completely out of sight of whoever was watching from the observation room.  
  
Trip thought back to when he first woke up in that hut surrounded by those huge, silent, goofy-looking natives. It was like childhood nightmares come true: stuffed animals coming to life and attacking him. He fought off a case of the giggles at that mental image.  
  
Trip wondered again what had happened to T'Pol and his thoughts took a turn for the melancholy. He hoped that she wasn't being held somewhere in a cell like this one. Although, that might be better than the alternative. She might be dead already.  
  
First Lab Assistant RaB# watched the alien from behind the one-way mirror in the observation room. For the last thirty minutes it had been pacing back and forth, shouting and gesticulating nonsensically. RaB# found the alien at the same time both fascinating and repellant. He wondered if all the beings on its planet were so hideously deformed. This particular alien was apparently lame, as it was definitely favoring its right knee. RaB# made a note in his observation log.  
  
Suddenly the alien launched itself at the observation window and began pounding on the glass. RaB# leapt back in horror as the glass warped and bounced back with every blow.  
  
After a few minutes it seemed to give up and sat down in the corner. RaB# moved forward hesitantly and quickly realized that even if he pressed his nose against the glass all he could see were the alien's feet. He leaned back, scowling, and started to write furiously on his observation log. This alien was obviously dangerous, and he intended for the council of scientists to understand that fully.  
  
  
  
Day 2: 1900 hours  
  
"So the interference isn't expanding, it just--shifted?" Travis asked with a frown. He looked up at Malcolm, who was standing by the conference room viewer, for confirmation.  
  
"Yes, Travis. The area of the northern continent which is now exposed is directly on the opposite side of the planet from the landing site. It appears the 'cloud', for want of a better word, shifted to cover our landing site, leaving this area uncovered."  
  
Archer crossed to study the image on the viewscreen more closely. "Are you suggesting this interference cloud is showing signs of intelligence? Did it hide our landing site on purpose?"  
  
"Good question, Captain. It is possible that the cloud was designed to protect the people of this planet, and our presence somehow triggered a defense mechanism which caused the interference to shift."  
  
T'Pol, who had been very quiet so far during this briefing, spoke up from her seat at the other end of the table. "If indeed this cloud is a defensive system, I doubt highly that it was designed by the people of this planet. I saw no evidence that they had ever seen alien lifeforms before, and our scans of the newly exposed area show no indication of technology capable of producing such a mechanism."  
  
"Well, we haven't seen the whole northern continent yet," Archer said. "They may have more technology that we don't know about."  
  
Travis said, "The shuttle ride down was pretty bumpy, and the way back was even worse. I couldn't find any reason for the turbulence. I don't know if that means anything, I just thought it was strange."  
  
"Is it possible the interference was somehow attracted to the shuttle? That may explain the bumpy ride," Archer suggested.  
  
"Maybe that explains the storm, too," Hoshi said. "It came from the north, right, T'Pol?"  
  
"A line of black clouds gathered on the northern horizon and moved toward our position at a rapid rate. After the storm struck, we discovered that we had lost contact with Enterprise."  
  
"So somehow the interference cloud sensed the shuttlepod?" Travis asked hesitantly.  
  
"Not necessarily sensed it," Malcolm said. "maybe it was drawn toward the shuttle magnetically. We could test that theory."  
  
"How?"  
  
"If we flew Enterprise close enough to the atmosphere, we might be able to tow the cloud away from the northern hemisphere entirely."  
  
"We must avoid detection by the natives," T'Pol said.  
  
"If we stayed over uninhabited areas, and worked during the night phase of the planet's rotation, we might be able to keep from being seen," responded Malcolm.  
  
"It's worth a try," Archer decided. He looked around the table at his exhausted bridge crew."Malcolm, get someone started on setting up the test. I want everyone here to get at least six hours of rest before we get started. We don't want to make any stupid mistakes because we're tired. Dismissed."  
  
  
  
Day 3: 0700 hours  
  
Once again qoRa~ found herself standing at the back of a group watching the action. This time it was a science council meeting to discuss what to do with the alien. The room was packed with scientists and assistants who had all been sworn to secrecy, of course. They had to be sure no one from the general public found out about the alien or there might be widespread panic. At least, that was First Scientist Xu'~'s argument. Privately qoRa~ thought the scientists might have other reasons for keeping the alien's existence secret, one of which might be so they didn't have to justify their actions to anyone.  
  
"This alien represents a distinct threat to our entire planet!" Xu'~ shouted over the general noise in the room. "We have no idea how many more of them might be out there!"  
  
"That does not necessarily constitute a threat, First Scientist," Second Scientist RuX# spoke up soothingly. QoRa~ had to crane her neck to see him over the heads of her fellow lab assistants.  
  
"I for one am not willing to take the risk," Xu'~ stated firmly. "We must find a way to neutralize this threat." A general murmur of agreement arose from the scientists seated at the table.  
  
"And how do you propose to do that?" RuX#'s tone was calm, but his hands moved swiftly, choppily as he spoke.  
  
"We must--explore its weaknesses, determine its limitations, so that we are able to design effective weapons against its kind."  
  
"What exactly do you mean, First Scientist?" A note of horror had crept into RuX#'s voice. QoRa~ listened in confusion, watching Xu'~'s hands closely for a hint as to what she had in mind.  
  
"I am proposing a series of experiments. We must try different weapons, chemicals and such to determine their effect on--"  
  
"No!" qoRa~ shouted in sudden comprehension. "You'll kill him!"  
  
"Who spoke?" Xu'~ asked in irritation.  
  
QoRa~ stepped forward. "Lab Assistant qoRa~," she said in a firm voice. She moved her hands carefully to keep them from trembling. "If you injure this one, you will only make the other aliens angry, which would make them more likely to attack us."  
  
"Second Lab Assistant, is it not? How do you know the aliens are not already planning an attack? It is imperative that we be prepared."  
  
There was another murmur of agreement, and qoRa~ looked around the table at the scientists who all glared back at her.  
  
"Shall we have a vote?" Xu'~ asked smugly. "Those in favor of the proposal?" There was a loud cacaphony of thumping as almost all of the scientists pounded the table in agreement.  
  
"Those opposed?" Only one fist struck the table this time, that of Second Scientist RuX#. Xu'~ just smirked at him. "The motion is approved."  
  
"I have devised a schedule of experiments, as well as an observation schedule for the lab assistants." Xu'~ began passing a packet of papers around the table. "We will need round-the-clock surveillance along with videotaping of the experiments and the alien's activities in the cell."  
  
QoRa~ studied the schedule in dismay. Xu'~ planned for experiments to begin immediately. She had assumed she would receive approval before the meeting even began. QoRa~ scanned down the list until she found her name on the observation schedule and groaned softly to herself. She would be working from midnight until 10 am, not exactly her favorite time of the day.  
  
She checked the chrometer on the wall. Since it was only 7:30 in the morning, technically she was on duty now. Stifling a sigh, she headed for the observation room. According to the schedule, the first experiment would begin at 8:00, and she would be expected to videotape the "procedure", as Xu'~ delicately described it.  
  
  
  
Day 3: 0730 hours  
  
Captain Archer sat tensely in his chair in the center of the bridge, waiting. It seemed like he had spent the last three days waiting, and he was getting sick of it.  
  
"Captain, I think we're ready," came Malcolm's voice from the tactical station. "The probe is in place on the opposite side of the planet, and I'm receiving telemetry. We should find out soon enough if our efforts have been successful."  
  
"Good work, Malcolm. Travis, are we in position?"  
  
"Yes, Captain. The edge of the interference cloud is about twenty kilometers to our aft."  
  
"What about our altitude?"  
  
"We are as close as we can get without being seen."  
  
"All right, Travis. Ahead one quarter impulse, straight and steady."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
The ship began to inch forward at what seemed to Archer like an impossibly slow speed. "Malcolm, anything?"  
  
"Not yet, sir."  
  
Archer chewed the inside of his lip nervously and continued waiting.  
  
"Captain, I'm receiving signals, from the planet!" Hoshi's excited voice broke the silence.  
  
"Signals? What kind?"  
  
"They contain visual as well as auditory information. I'm reading multiple, overlapping signals, Captain. I think they're television signals or maybe videophone calls."  
  
"The probe is sending back sensor information as well, Captain," Malcolm added. "I'm receiving scans of over half the northern continent! I'm reading numerous large cities and smaller towns."  
  
Archer couldn't suppress the grin that sprang to his lips. "What about Trip's comm signal?  
  
Malcolm shook his head. "No sign of it yet, Sir."  
  
Archer sighed. "Keep going, Travis. Malcolm, let me know when we have scans of the entire northern continent."  
  
  
  
Day 3: 0800 hours  
  
Trip lay face down on the exam table with his cheek pressed against the cold metal. His arms and legs were securely fastened with some sort of flexible plastic material that cut like glass when he struggled. He tried to stay calm. Last time they didn't hurt me, he reminded himself.  
  
Trip felt something on his back, moving in a straight line down from his shoulder to his waist, then again in another straight line parallel to the first one. What the hell were they doing back there? He tried to twist around to see, but could only move a few centimeters due to the thick band strapping his head down. He caught a glimpse of a white-covered hand holding something shiny, lifting it up, then bringing it down on his back again and moving down in another straight line. He concentrated on the sensation. Was that some sort of marker? Why would they draw lines on his back?  
  
The marker drew one more vertical line, then five horizontal lines to describe some sort of grid on the skin. Trip frowned, puzzled. This was weird, to be sure, but then again, everything that had happened to him so far had been weird.  
  
From behind him a strange guttural voice spoke, followed by a scratchy sound of writing on paper. Trip felt the marker again, writing something in the top righthand box of the grid.  
  
The voice spoke again, a single word, almost like a pronouncement. Trip's muscles tensed involuntarily. He felt something touch the top right-hand square, then a sensation of cold in that section of his back that started out mild and quickly increased in intensity until it was so cold it felt like it was burning. He squeezed his eyes shut while he stifled a cry of pain.  
  
The voice spoke again, followed by more writing on paper and skin, then a different sensation in the next box of the grid, this time it felt like being poked by white-hot needles. Trip gritted his teeth to stop himself from screaming.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Author's Note: So here's what's up with the names. Symbols are taken from the International Phonetic Alphabet. If you understand the description, you just might be a linguist.  
  
X=voiceless uvular fricative (like a hard 'h' sound) R=uvular trill (like gargling) q=voiceless uvular stop (like a 'k' in the back of the throat) '=voiced glottal stop (like the sound at the beginning of "uh-oh"-actually I cheated on this one, the real symbol looks more like a ?) B=voiced bilabial trill (like a raspberry sound) ~ indicates female person # indicates male person  
  
Warning: If you can't handle Trip getting hurt, you should probably stop reading now, because it's about to get a lot worse. 


	4. Abandonment

Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise or any of the regular characters, and I'm not making any money from this story.  
  
Warning: This is another not-so-nice story. I tried to write a happy story but I didn't like the way it was coming out, so I wrote this one. Be prepared for some pain (hopefully not on the reader's part, however!).  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Chapter 4: Abandonment  
  
Day 3: 1700 hours  
  
Trip sat with his back pressed hard against the wall of his cell. The cold from the hard stone was the only thing that felt good against the raw, burnt skin of his back. He held very still because he had discovered that if he moved, the stone rubbed against the blistered skin and it hurt terribly.  
  
Trip hoped again that T'Pol wasn't being held somewhere by these aliens. She was tough, sure, but she wasn't invulnerable. She was right after all, he thought in disgust. It was foolish to have gone to this planet in the first place, and he was a fool for insisting on it. If--when--they ever made it back to Enterprise, he was going to owe her one hell of an apology.  
  
The beeping sound of the door lock disengaging startled him. Four of the aliens swarmed in, followed by a fifth alien pushing the gurney.  
  
Trip sprang to his feet, ready to fight. He noticed that the final alien had not closed the door behind himself. As the two lead aliens closed in to take hold of his arms, he twisted away and dashed toward the open door.  
  
The fifth alien realized too late what was happening. By the time he lunged sideways to stop him, Trip was already out the door and sprinting down the hallway.  
  
After about fifty meters, the hallway came to a Y intersection. Trip hesitated. Behind him he could hear the sounds of running footsteps coming closer. Without time to think it through, he chose the left branch at random.  
  
The running footsteps were close behind now. Trip took a right at the first intersection he came to, then several more rights and lefts to throw off his pursuers.  
  
After several moments the footsteps faded and he slowed down to a jog, breathing heavily and trying to keep his weight off his injured right knee. He finally had a moment to look around himself and discovered he was completely lost. Shit, he thought. What now?  
  
Closed doors lined both sides of the hallway, with writing that was completely undecipherable. Maybe his communicator was in one of those rooms, he thought. Of course, it would probably be impossible to find it.  
  
He decided his best bet was to try to get to the surface. If only he could find that damn elevator . . . but he had no idea which direction it might be. Maybe he'd have more luck finding some clothes.  
  
The doorhandles were shoulder height. Trip tried one of the doors and discovered it was locked, as were the next two. He continued trying doors along the corridor without any luck.  
  
Suddenly he heard the sound of running footsteps again, along with muffled shouts. He backed into a doorwell where he hoped he would not be quite so visible. The shouts came closer.  
  
Trip pressed his back against the door. If anyone came down that particular corridor, he would quickly be discovered. Without thinking about it, he reached up over his shoulder and tried the doorhandle. To his astonishment the door swung open with a quiet creaking sound.  
  
He backed into the room and closed the door, holding the handle so the latch wouldn't make any noise. The lights in the room were off, but he could hear strange scratching and snuffling sounds in the darkness.  
  
Trip blinked for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could make out animal cages lining the walls with large dark shapes moving around inside. Stealthily he made his way to the back of the room, hoping to find another exit.  
  
On the back wall of the room he spotted the outline of another door. He tried the handle but it didn't open.  
  
The pounding footsteps and shouts were very close now, right outside the room. Keeping a cautious eye on the door, Trip backed up toward the wall. After two steps his heel connected with something hard. A second later there was a crash of glass breaking.  
  
Instantly the animals in the cages began to screech loudly, jumping up and down and flinging themselves against the bars in outrage at the intrusion.  
  
"Shh!! Be quiet!" Trip hissed at them. The animals continued to howl eerily, even louder.  
  
Suddenly there was a noise at the door. Picking up a large piece of broken glass to use as a weapon, Trip scurried into a hiding place between two cages just as the door was flung open and the light flickered on. A group of white-suited aliens piled in and began searching between the cages.  
  
When they were almost upon him, Trip made a break for it. He easily slipped past the first group. A single alien guarded the door, with a stick in his hand that Trip remembered from previous encounters.  
  
Trip faked to the right, then left. The alien dove at him. As Trip started to sidestep back toward the right, his right knee collapsed under him and he fell.  
  
He quickly rolled and came up again to find that the aliens had him surrounded. When one of the aliens moved in with his stick, Trip slashed at its sleeve with the shard of glass. The suit decompressed with a hiss as the sharp edge sliced through fabric and skin underneath. The alien grabbed at its arm with a muffled cry of pain. Bright turquoise blood oozed through its fingers.  
  
Another alien advanced on him and Trip slashed at that one too but missed. Two of them jumped on him while the one he had cut jabbed him in the right knee with an electricity stick. Trip cried out as the current surged through the injured muscles.  
  
An alien grabbed each of his limbs. "What's wrong with you people!" he shouted as they dragged him, kicking and squirming, toward the gurney. "Let me go!!"  
  
The aliens placed him roughly on his back on the cold metal table and secured his wrists and ankles with the tough plastic restraints. Trip continued to squirm, ignoring the pain as the restraints cut into his skin, and yelled, "Stop it, please! Why are you doing this?"  
  
The aliens didn't respond. As soon as he was completely restrained they rolled the gurney down the hall to the other room, the place where they had hurt his back. The eerie wailing of the caged animals followed him down the corridor.  
  
When they had entered the room, the aliens untied his left arm, stretched it out to the side and retied it to a metal post about half a meter away. Trip turned his head a few centimeters to watch, curious as to what they would do next.  
  
One of the aliens spoke, and this time Trip could see the speaker standing by his left side adjusting something above his arm. Another alien wrote on a paper, then picked up a marker, drew a line across Trip's arm halfway between the elbow and wrist, and wrote something next to the mark.  
  
A third alien with what looked like a videocamera leaned in close to his arm, then panned up to get a shot of the one adjusting the equipment.  
  
From Trip's other side a voice spoke, the same alien that had been speaking while they hurt his back. The others all stood back expectantly.  
  
One of the aliens flipped a switch and suddenly a weight dropped onto Trip's arm, hitting precisely on the line the aliens had drawn. Trip screamed in pain as the bones shattered under the impact.  
  
  
  
Day 4: 0200 hours  
  
Hoshi sat in the dark in her quarters and stared at the flickering images on her computer screen. She had asked to have the televisual signals from the planet sent to her quarters so she could concentrate without distractions, and hopefully interpret the language which so far had confounded their translation matrices. She had been watching the signals for several hours with little success.  
  
The alien on the screen, apparently some sort of news announcer, moved her hands frequently while she talked. An image of a river appeared on the screen behind her, with fish-like creatures jumping in and out of the water. The announcer's left hand moved downward sharply with open fingers closing into a fist, almost like grabbing something from the air.  
  
Hoshi focused intently on the announcer's mouth. The sound she made was in the back of her throat, maybe a uvular fricative. Hoshi wrote down the phonetic symbol for the sound, X, and frowned at it. So far she had only been able to discern about six different consonant sounds, all produced in the back of the mouth or the throat, which was not nearly enough for a living language. No wonder their computer was having a difficult time translating it.  
  
Hoshi took a sip of her tea, which had gone cold. The picture behind the woman changed to show some sort of animals in cages. The camera zoomed in on the face of one of the animals, and the woman made the downward air- grabbing hand movement again.  
  
"Computer, stop!" Hoshi leaned in closer to the screen. "Replay last ten seconds, half-speed."  
  
On the screen, the woman's blue-furred hand slowly moved downward, fingers closing into a fist. Hoshi copied the movement.  
  
"Of course!" she cried out excitedly. "I've got it!"  
  
  
  
Day 4: 0700 hours  
  
Trip huddled in the corner of his cell cradling his broken arm against his chest. His breathing was harsh with pain. He had no idea what time of day it might be or how many hours might have passed since he had been brought here. He knew that if he didn't get water soon, probably in the next twenty-four hours, he would most likely be dead from dehydration. His throat felt like it was on fire. He was already beginning to feel weak and disoriented, and his pulse was racing.  
  
The growling of his stomach had died down to a dull ache, and his back didn't hurt much anymore, although it was starting to itch terribly. At the moment the only sensation that could hold his attention for more than a few seconds was the agony from the shattered bones in his arm.  
  
Trip shifted position just a little, and gasped as the pain radiated up from his wrist to his shoulder. He looked down again at the three lines across his lower and upper left arm, each marking a place where the weight had broken the bones.  
  
He bit his lip as he gingerly probed the swelling with his fingertip. Why were these people doing this to him? They must be monsters to torture him like this.  
  
Trip slowly turned his right hand over and examined the palm. Although he hadn't noticed it at the time, when he had slashed at the aliens with the piece of glass, he had also cut his own palm open. Dark red blood still seeped from the wound. He could see bits of glass embedded in the cut, but with his other arm useless he was unable to pull them out.  
  
Suddenly the door beeped again and slowly swung open. Trip shrank back further into the corner and threw his good arm up over his head. "No, please," he whispered hoarsely.  
  
QoRa~ obediently followed First Scientist Xu'~ into the alien's cell, RaB# close on her heels with a zapstick held tightly in his hand.  
  
"Hold its arms," Xu'~ ordered sharply. RaB# darted around qoRa~ and seized the alien's injured arm, which caused him to scream in pain. QoRa~ hesitated.  
  
"Assistant, the other arm!" Xu'~ barked. QoRa~ moved in and took his right arm, holding it almost gently. The alien wriggled away, so she grabbed it again more firmly.  
  
"Stretch the arm out, Assistant!" qoRa~ did as she was told, carefully avoiding eye contact with the alien. She knew that if she saw his eyes, read the terror there, that she would not be able to go through with it.  
  
Xu'~ pulled a hypodermic needle out of her pocket and uncapped it with her teeth. The alien began to struggle more fiercely when he saw it, so Xu'~ helped qoRa~ hold the right arm while she jabbed the needle in and slammed the plunger home.  
  
As soon as she pulled the needle out, they released the alien and he fled back to his corner, cradling his injured arm and moaning softly in pain. QoRa~ clenched her teeth together. She felt incredible shame for what her people were doing to this creature.  
  
QoRa~ turned to go, but RaB# lingered, staring at the alien with his zapstick raised. QoRa~ knew he was angry at the alien for cutting him during his escape attempt. He had been complaining about it for hours.  
  
RaB# muttered something under his breath that qoRa~ couldn't make out. Without warning he took a step forward and thrust the point of the zapstick into the alien's broken arm. The alien let out a strangled cry of pain.  
  
RaB# took a step back and spoke again. This time qoRa~ could hear him say quietly, voice filled with hatred, "I'll enjoy cutting you open after you're dead, you alien monster. If it were up to me I'd slit your throat right now."  
  
From behind her qoRa~ heard Xu'~ chuckle drily. "You'll get your chance soon enough, RaB#. I don't think it'll survive much longer."  
  
Xu'~ led the little processional back out the door and into the observation room, where she swiveled the videocamera toward the alien. Within a few moments the alien began to gag, then retch violently. As there was obviously nothing in his stomach, he didn't actually vomit, just continued to dry-heave for several minutes.  
  
Xu'~ nodded in satisfaction. "Continue to run the videotape," she said, rising to her feet. "Make careful notes of any changes. Let me know if it loses consciousness." Xu'~ left the room with a smug smile on her face, with RaB# following close behind.  
  
QoRa~ sat in the darkness staring at the alien, who had curled up on his side with his arms wrapped around his midsection. She adjusted the camera to zoom in on the creature's face, which was contorted in pain.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.  
  
  
  
Day 4: 0730 hours  
  
"Bimodal?" Captain Archer said with a frown. "Do you mean like a bimodal syntax?"  
  
"No, Captain," Hoshi explained patiently. "I mean the language is bimodal. They use both oral and manual modes of communication. Watch this. Computer, play recording."  
  
On the briefing room viewscreen the alien announcer appeared and began to speak, moving her hands rapidly.  
  
"That's what they look like?" Archer asked incredulously.  
  
"Rather like overgrown teddy bears," Malcolm said with a grin.  
  
T'Pol frowned at him disapprovingly. "Lieutenant, from what we are able to ascertain they are at least 3 meters in height and weigh over 200 kg."  
  
"Computer, pause." Hoshi said. "Did you see that downward movement of the hands? That was a manual supplement to the spoken word. That particular sign means 'animal'. There are different signs for each category of noun, and for every other part of speech. I still don't have them all sorted out."  
  
"Can you program the translation matrix to read these signs?" Malcolm asked.  
  
Hoshi shook her head. "Unfortunately our translation matrix was designed for spoken languages. It probably could be reprogrammed, but--"  
  
"But what?" the captain prompted.  
  
Hoshi bit her lip. "The only one who could do it is Commander Tucker, sir." She sat heavily in her chair and stared down at her hands.  
  
"Were you able to interpret any of it?" T'Pol asked after a moment.  
  
"Yes, about half."  
  
"Were there any reports of a captured alien?"  
  
Hoshi frowned. "No, there weren't. I didn't even think about that. There was one report of mysterious lights over the southern continent, at least I think that's what they said."  
  
"Can you learn enough of the language to make yourself understood?" the captain asked.  
  
"I--I think so."  
  
"Captain, it would be foolish to attempt a rescue mission at this point," T'Pol said quickly. "We have no idea where Commander Tucker might be or even if he is still alive."  
  
"What do you want me to do, T'Pol?" the captain asked with anger glinting in his eyes. "I'm not going to abandon him down there."  
  
"Can we disguise ourselves as natives?" Malcolm jumped in.  
  
"As I mentioned, the average adult of their species stands over three meters tall, Lieutenant. A disguise would have to duplicate that height," T'Pol responded.  
  
"The doctor can work something out for us," said Archer.  
  
"Where will you go?" T'Pol asked. "That land mass is approximately the size of North America, with numerous cities and population centers. How do you propose to find one human in such an enormous area?"  
  
"Proverbial needle in the haystack," said Malcolm.  
  
"We have to try," said Archer firmly. "T'Pol, keep scanning for Trip's comm signal. Malcolm, Hoshi, let's go to sick bay. Dismissed."  
  
Malcolm and Hoshi filed out the door. Archer started to follow, but T'Pol stepped in front of him.  
  
"You are putting your crewmembers at risk, Captain," she said quietly.  
  
Archer looked her in the eye. "I can't leave Trip behind, T'Pol. You know that."  
  
T'Pol held his gaze for a long moment, then inclined her head slightly. "I understand. Please be careful."  
  
Archer nodded silently. T'Pol stepped back and allowed him to proceed out the door. He turned left and headed down the corridor toward sick bay.  
  
  
  
Day 4: 2100 hours  
  
Trip lay on his side in the corner of his room with his good arm wrapped around his midsection. He had been coughing up bright spots of blood for at least an hour, but his stomach was finally starting to settle down a little now. He still felt shaky and feverish, however. He licked his lower lip, which was cracked and bleeding.  
  
When the door opened again, Trip just groaned quietly. He didn't have the energy to fight anymore. Besides, who cares what they do to me now, he thought. I'll be dead in a few hours anyway.  
  
Three white-suited monsters came toward him, light reflecting off the faceplates of their helmets. They took hold of his right arm and held it out straight. Another needle plunged into the skin, then the monsters released him and left.  
  
Trip rolled over onto his back, carefully holding his broken left arm against his body, and struggled to sit up. His vision was starting to get blurry and the lights hurt his eyes. Slowly the light seemed to get brighter and brighter until it dissolved into a swirl of mad colors. Trip blinked again several times in confusion, and finally squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
His eyes flew open when he heard the beeping of the door lock again. He felt like he was pinned down, like he couldn't move.  
  
The door slowly swung open and the gurney rolled through by itself. The door swung shut again with an echoing clang of metal on metal.  
  
On the gurney lay an unmoving form covered by a white sheet. Trip stared at it for several minutes. The form was tantalizingly familiar.  
  
With enormous effort Trip struggled to his feet. He took a halting step toward the gurney, then another until he was standing beside it, looking down at the sheet-covered form with growing horror.  
  
Trip put out a shaky right hand and slowly drew back the sheet. The top of a head covered in smooth dark hair appeared. He bit his lip and pulled the sheet back a little further until he caught sight of a delicately pointed ear.  
  
Trip dropped the sheet with a gasp and staggered backwards. No! Oh, God, she's dead, he thought frantically. He stumbled back to his corner, drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in the crook of his arm. He felt like he couldn't breathe. She couldn't really be dead, could she?  
  
Slowly Trip lifted his head just enough to see the gurney. The sheet had slipped down a bit further and he could see her face, unmoving, tinged with gray, clearly lifeless.  
  
The door lock beeped again. When the door swung open, another familiar form was standing there.  
  
"Captain?" Trip whispered uncertainly. Archer took a step into the room and the door clanged shut behind him.  
  
"Hello, Trip," Archer said with a slight smile, taking several steps closer.  
  
Trip struggled to his feet and stood trembling. "Captain! Are you takin' me home?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Trip."  
  
"S-sorry? 'bout what?"  
  
"I came to say goodbye." Archer took a step backwards.  
  
"No!! Don't leave me here!"  
  
"I have to go now." Archer's form was growing dimmer.  
  
"No, Captain, please!! Don't leave me with these monsters!" Trip limped toward his friend, reaching out desperately.  
  
"Goodbye, Trip." The captain's voice sounded faint, as if coming from far away. Before Trip's eyes Archer's form continued to fade until it disappeared completely.  
  
"No!!" Trip screamed with the last of his voice. He doubled over and sank to his knees in the middle of the floor. "No, please, come back," he cried hoarsely. "Come back. . ."  
  
The room was completely silent. Trip turned to find that the gurney bearing T'Pol's lifeless body was also gone. He stumbled back to his corner and pulled his knees up to his chest again.  
  
Trip buried his face in his arm. His shoulders began to heave as hoarse sobs were wrenched from his lips. "Please, don't leave me," he whispered, wiping the tears from his face with his right hand. "Please. . ."  
  
~*~*~*~*~ 


	5. Contact

Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise or any of the regular characters, and I'm not making any money from this story.  
  
Warning: This is another not-so-nice story. I tried to write a happy story but I didn't like the way it was coming out, so I wrote this one. Be prepared for some pain (hopefully not on the reader's part, however!).  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Chapter 5: Contact  
  
Day 5: 0000 hours  
  
When qoRa~ arrived in the observation room, First lab Assistant RaB# was leaning forward with his nose practically touching the window.  
  
"What's going on?" She asked as she closed the door.  
  
"The alien's face is wet. We think it might be some sort of defense mechanism. Xu'~ and I took a sample." RaB# adjusted the videocamera to zoom in on the alien's face and stepped back so qoRa~ could see the screen.  
  
"He looks frightened," qoRa~ said quietly.  
  
RaB# scoffed. "It's more dangerous than it looks. When we went in there it tried to attack us." He pulled on his coat and headed out the door.  
  
QoRa~ sat down in the chair and stared at the vidscreen. The alien had his face buried in his arm, trembling. He didn't look dangerous to her, he looked terrified and extremely vulnerable.  
  
She picked up the observation log and leafed back through the pages. She stopped and read a few entries.  
  
2100 hours: injection of lysergic acid diethylamide.  
  
2130 hours: subject appears to be talking to people who aren't there.  
  
2200 hours: sitting in corner. liquid coming from eyes. Defense mechanism?  
  
2250 hours: took sample of liquid. subject tried to bite lab assistant. Was subdued by zapstick.  
  
QoRa~ dropped the log back onto the desk and turned her attention to the vidscreen again. "Good for you," she said with a small smile. "I'd have bit him too."  
  
On the screen the alien lifted his head and looked directly at the camera, startling her. He stared unblinking at the camera for several seconds, then buried his face again, shivering uncontrollably.  
  
QoRa~ contemplated the image on the screen. Why are we doing this, she wondered. This was obviously an intelligent creature. It hadn't harmed anyone, and yet the best response that her people could come up with was to torture and kill it. But what could she do about it? She was only a lowly lab assistant.  
  
QoRa~ took a deep breath, pushed back her chair and stood up. Maybe she couldn't solve the problems of the universe, but she could do one small kindness for one creature. She reached out and shut off the videocamera.  
  
Before she could change her mind, qoRa~ pulled on an envirosuit, took a blanket off the top shelf of the closet and headed toward the alien's cell. With shaking fingers she entered the code to open the door.  
  
When she entered the door, the alien was standing with his back pressed against the wall, injured arm clutched to his chest. He watched her warily.  
  
QoRa~ took three steps into the room, letting door clang shut behind her. The alien shrank back further into the corner.  
  
Carefully, qoRa~ opened the blanket and held it out to him. He eyed her suspiciously but didn't move. She set the blanket down on the floor and stepped back, holding out her hands to show they were empty.  
  
For several seconds the alien's eyes flicked back and forth between her and the blanket. Finally he darted forward, snatched the blanket, and retreated to his corner.  
  
The alien hesitated, feeling the soft fabric with his thumb and forefinger, and then he wrapped the blanket around himself, still shivering. His eyes closed for a moment.  
  
QoRa~ stood completely still, just watching him. He licked his lower lip, which was dry and cracked. When his eyes finally opened again, some of the fear was gone.  
  
The alien spoke a few words in his language, and then slowly, shakily, his cupped hand moved up to his mouth.  
  
"Water?" qoRa~ asked excitedly. "You want water?"  
  
Her sudden movement seemed to startle him, because he shrank back into the corner again.  
  
QoRa~ slowly imitated his gesture, cupped hand up to her mouth, like drinking. His head bobbed up and down in what she took to be a gesture of agreement.  
  
"Wait right here," she said. "I'll be right back!" Hurriedly qoRa~ entered the code to open the door.  
  
A few moments later qoRa~ returned with a plastic cup full of water, which she carefully put down on the floor in the middle of the room. As soon as she had stepped back, the alien limped out and picked up the cup. He took a small sip and held it in his mouth for a second, then, apparently satisfied that it wouldn't hurt him, quickly gulped down the rest of the water.  
  
The alien set the cup back down in the middle of the floor and wiped his mouth with his right arm. He made the drinking motion again.  
  
"More?" she asked, copying his motion. "You want more."  
  
His head bobbed up and down.  
  
"All right, I'll get you more." When she took a step forward to pick up the cup, he retreated to his corner, not quite as quickly or fearfully as he had the previous times.  
  
QoRa~ quickly refilled the cup and brought it back. This time, instead of setting it down, she held the cup out to him.  
  
He watched her cautiously for a moment, and then took a hesitant step forward, then another. Slowly he reached out his hand and took the cup from her outstretched fingers.  
  
The alien gulped down the contents without pausing. When he lowered the cup, his mouth curved upward into the most beautiful smile qoRa~ had ever seen. She was stunned. Without thinking she reached out her hand to touch his face.  
  
The smile vanished in an instant. The alien dropped the cup and dashed back to his corner, flinging his right arm up to protect his head.  
  
"I won't hurt you," qoRa~ said softly. She released the seal on her glove. Her envirosuit decompressed with a soft hiss.  
  
"See? No zapstick, no needles." She pulled off her gloves, and then reached up and removed her helmet. The alien's arm had come down and he was staring at her wide-eyed.  
  
Setting her helmet and gloves aside, qoRa~ took a slow step toward him. "It's all right," she said soothingly. "I won't hurt you."  
  
She stopped in front of him and crouched down to his level. She pointed to her chest. "qoRa~," she said, sweeping her hand from left to right. He stared at her silently. "qoRa~," she repeated, slowly and clearly.  
  
The alien continued to stare at her mouth in obvious concentration. "C- cora," he whispered.  
  
"Yes, that's right!" she cried excitedly. Close enough, even without the hand motion. She bobbed her head up and down as he had, hoping it really meant yes.  
  
"Cora," he said again, with the ghost of a smile on his lips. Then he pointed to himself and said a short string of sounds qoRa~ had never heard before. When she didn't respond, he repeated the sounds.  
  
QoRa~ concentrated on his mouth, as he did not move his hands in any discernible pattern. "Xi'," she attempted. She knew the sounds weren't quite right, but it was as close as she thought she could get.  
  
He repeated the sounds again. QoRa~ watched his lips come together at the end of the word. Although the sound was not one that appeared in her language, she thought she might possibly be able to say it.  
  
"Xip#," she tried again, automatically adding the gesture for 'male person'.  
  
The corners of the alien's mouth curved upward again into that beautiful smile. QoRa~ returned the smile with a thrill of excitement. She reached out her hand again to touch his cheek. The smile faded and he froze, but did not pull away.  
  
Very gently qoRa~ stroked his cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin. She traced the curve of his rounded ear, then down along his jawbone, which was unexpectedly rough.  
  
The alien sat very still while she touched him, but QoRa~ could see his pulse pounding in his neck. She ran her fingers along the fragile-looking bone that stood out horizontally across the front of his shoulder, felt the hollow at the base of his throat.  
  
He didn't resist when she gently pulled back the blanket and stroked down his right arm, feeling the fine, soft hair covering the skin. She turned his hand over and examined the wound on the palm. Using her thumb and fingernail, she carefully removed a shard of glass embedded in the cut. He winced and she felt a slight tug as he resisted the urge to pull away.  
  
QoRa~ lightly traced each delicate finger. The skin on his fingertips was raised in elegant whorls and ridges. She rubbed the ridges in wonder.  
  
Reluctantly qoRa~ released his hand and it disappeared back under the blanket.  
  
"Where are you from?" she asked. He met her eye and said some words in his language. "Of course, you don't know what I'm saying. How can I help you understand?"  
  
QoRa~ thought for a moment, then she jumped up. "Wait right there," she said as she punched in the code to open the door.  
  
When she returned a moment later with a pad of paper and a writing instrument, he was sitting exactly where she had left him. He watched her curiously.  
  
She set the pad on the floor and held up the pen for him to see. She quickly drew a large circle for her sun and five smaller circles for the planets in her solar system. She pointed to the second planet from the sun, then at the floor. His head bobbed in comprehension.  
  
"Now where are you from, Xip#?" QoRa~ held the pen out to him and he took it in his right hand. She ripped off the top sheet of paper to expose a blank page underneath.  
  
The alien leaned forward and began to draw. He quickly sketched a circle surrounded by squiggly lines, obviously indicating a sun, and then nine smaller circles with lines showing they orbited the sun. With a glance up to make sure she was watching, he touched the third planet from the sun, and then his chest.  
  
QoRa~ bobbed her head to show she understood. "How far away is that?" She pointed around the room with a questioning look on her face.  
  
The corner of the alien's mouth twitched upward. Very deliberately he laid her drawing in one corner of the room, then limped to the opposite corner and laid his picture down as far away as possible.  
  
QoRa~ was surprised. She had expected perhaps that his planet was in a neighboring solar system, but where he had put his drawing indicated hundreds of lightyears. That distance was mind-boggling.  
  
"How-how did you get here?" she asked in amazement. She pointed to him, and made a motion of traveling from his solar system to hers.  
  
He moved to her drawing and sketched a figure orbiting her planet, with a circle in the front, and two parallel lines coming out the back. QoRa~'s eyes widened.  
  
"A ship!" she exclaimed. "An alien spaceship! Where is it now? Maybe you can go home!" She pointed to the ship, then to the ceiling, and back to the ship again.  
  
His head swung back and forth quickly. He drew a dark line through the ship that extended off the edge of the paper. Then he dropped the pen, pushed the paper away, and backed into his corner with the blanket wrapped tightly around himself.  
  
"They left you?" qoRa~ asked gently. The alien's lip began to quiver and there was water in his eyes again. He sniffled and wiped the water away as it spilled down his face. He clutched his injured left arm against his chest and moaned in pain.  
  
QoRa~ stood up and said, "I'll be right back." She gathered up the paper and pen and hurried out, leaving the alien huddled in the corner.  
  
  
  
Day 5: 0200 hours  
  
"How do I look, Hoshi?" Malcolm asked with a grin. He spread out his arms to show the coat of blue fur the doctor had given him.  
  
Hoshi gave him a dubious look. "Probably about as ridiculous as I do," she replied. "Doctor, the ears were bigger."  
  
"Ah, Grandmother, what big ears you have," the doctor said with a chuckle. Hoshi frowned at him. "I have read up on Earth culture, Ensign," he said as he stretched her artificial ear upwards. "Better?"  
  
Hoshi regarded herself in the mirror. "I guess so. Captain, do you really think this is going to work?"  
  
Archer looked up from the sickbay workstation where he and T'Pol were choosing a beam-down site. "We can do it, Hoshi," he said seriously.  
  
Hoshi bit her lip and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Even with prosthetic ears, nose, eyelids, and fur, she still looked wrong somehow. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but somehow she knew that she would not be accepted as a native.  
  
Once she had figured out the linguistic system, she had identified most of the manual signs with relative ease, but she was still far short of being fluent in the language. Without the help of the translator, she doubted that she would be able to make herself understood beyond simple phrases. She was fairly sure she could ask where the bathroom was, but "Do you have any information about a captured alien," was probably somewhat beyond her current abilities.  
  
"Can we beam in right there?" the captain asked T'Pol, pointing at the screen.  
  
The Sub-Commander entered some data into her PADD. "I believe that area is uninhabited. You will have to walk three kilometers to the nearest population center."  
  
"I think we can do that. Doc, how soon will we be ready?"  
  
"It will take at least another three hours to finish the prosthetics, to say nothing of solving the height problem, which we haven't even started on yet."  
  
The captain nodded to T'Pol. "Have the coordinates entered into the transporter. I want to be ready to go by 0600."  
  
T'Pol inclined her head and strode out of sickbay. Hoshi watched the captain and was surprised to see a momentary expression of grief flit across his face. The expression disappeared when he realized she was watching him.  
  
"Captain . . ."  
  
"It'll be all right, Hoshi. We'll find him."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
~*~*~*~*~ 


	6. Long Distance Call

Author's Note: I'd like to thank my beta reader (and husband), Rick, for his very helpful comments on this chapter. Thanks, Honey. You're a prince among men.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 6: Long Distance Call  
  
Day 5: 0300 hours  
  
When the door clanged open again, Trip clutched his blanket more tightly and shrank back into the corner. He mentally prepared himself to fight them. No matter what he wouldn't let them take him this time.  
  
The alien who had brought him the water entered, and Trip relaxed just a little. So far, she had been the only alien who had shown him the slightest kindness, but he still found that he didn't quite trust her. He didn't see how he could trust any of them, after what they had done to him.  
  
The alien, Cora, had on a green jacket instead of the white suit and helmet she had been wearing before. She took a small, black plastic box out of her jacket pocket and held it out to him. Trip limped forward just enough to take it from her hand and retreated to the corner.  
  
Carefully he opened the lid to the box and looked inside. His eyes lit up when he discovered that it held his communicator, or at least the disassembled parts thereof. He looked up and saw that Cora was smiling at him encouragingly.  
  
With trembling fingers he lifted the communicator's casing from the box and examined the parts. He thought they were all there, although in his current condition he was sure of nothing. It should be fairly simple to reassemble it, he thought. He had done it dozens of times before.  
  
Trip pried open the communicator's casing, warping the metal in the process. He took the subspace transceiver assembly from the box and with one hand awkwardly inserted it into the proper slot in the casing.  
  
Trip squinted at the pieces remaining in the box. The location transponder should be next, or was it the encryption circuit assembly? He knew the power cell was last. Come on, you can do this, he told himself.  
  
One-handed he took the location transponder from the box and tried to place it into the casing, but it wouldn't fit. He turned the component around and tried again, and this time it went in easily. Clumsily he inserted the encryption circuit assembly in front of the transponder.  
  
He looked back into the box and discovered that all that was left was the power cell. It seemed like there was something missing. He closed his eyes and ran over the sequence in his mind. First the subspace transceiver assembly, then the location transponder, then the encryption circuit assembly, then . . . ? The name of the next component completely escaped him. With a small sigh he pushed the power cell into place and snapped the casing closed. Maybe it would work without the missing piece.  
  
When he was finished assembling the communicator he held it in his hand for a long moment, feeling the weight of it, staring at the Starfleet symbol engraved on the cover. He knew why he was hesitating: if he called and they didn't answer, then that meant they really had gone away and left him. Any shred of hope he might have had remaining would be swept away. He wasn't sure if he could handle that knowledge.  
  
After a long moment, he flipped open the cover. The communicator chittered at him reassuringly. He lifted the device to his lips.  
  
"Tucker to Enterprise."  
  
  
  
Day 5: 0330 hours  
  
On the bridge, T'Pol perched impassively on the edge of her chair with her head bent over the viewer. She kept her face carefully neutral while she entered the coordinates for yet another scan. She would never admit it to the captain, but she continued to hope that she would be able to locate the commander's comm signal before the away team beamed down to the planet's surface. She did not want to risk the lives of any more crewmembers in this rescue venture, and she was fairly certain that the away team would quickly be identified as aliens and apprehended.  
  
Finding nothing at the current location, T'Pol wearily entered the coordinates for next sweep. She felt her tenuous grasp on hope begin to slip away. Rationally she knew it was highly unlikely that any of their efforts would enable them to find Commander Tucker. As Lieutenant Reed had stated, their search was literally akin to locating a needle in a haystack. However, the commander had surprised her before.  
  
T'Pol thought back to the last conversation she had had with him, the evening they had spent together on the surface. At the time she had felt that her comments were justified. His reasoning had been flawed, and she had felt that it had been her duty to point out his errors in judgment. Now, however, she was not so certain. She was aware that her comments that night had hurt his feelings, and that to humans, perhaps Commander Tucker especially so, that hurt was felt as keenly as any physical injury.  
  
When she had first been assigned to Enterprise, T'Pol had read the personnel files of every crewmember, and she had been surprised to discover how young they all were. Even the captain, the oldest human member of the crew, was only in his forties, and Commander Tucker was just thirty-three years old. If he were Vulcan, he would still be living in his parents' house and attending the Academy. If he were Vulcan. . . but he was not Vulcan, and she did not wish him to be. He was who he was--and she had hurt him.  
  
T'Pol closed her eyes momentarily. When she opened them, she was surprised to discover that a faint, blinking red dot had appeared in the lower left corner of her viewscreen. She stared at it for a moment, nonplussed.  
  
Without taking her eyes off the viewscreen, T'Pol reached out for the comm button. Before she touched the controls, a crackling sound came from the speakers. T'Pol turned her head and stared at the source of the sound.  
  
"Tucker to Enterprise," said a familiar voice, faint and overlaid with static. T'Pol's eyebrow climbed nearly into her hair. She slapped the comm. button.  
  
"Enterprise. T'Pol here," she said calmly. "Commander, are you . . . all right?"  
  
"T-T'Pol?"  
  
"Yes, Commander. I'm reading your position. I'm attempting to establish a transporter lock." T'Pol gestured to a nearby crewmember to call for the captain while she entered the data into the computer. A moment later the controls beeped at her.  
  
"The transporter is not able to lock onto your position, Commander."  
  
"I think . . . un . . . gr . . ." The signal faded out and in again.  
  
"Are you in danger?"  
  
The only response was a crackling sound, then static.  
  
"Commander, can you hear me?" No response. T'Pol heard the bridge doors swish open and a second later Archer was leaning over her shoulder.  
  
"Commander, come in please," T'Pol said after a moment. Still no response. She turned in her chair to face the captain.  
  
"Did you talk to him?" Archer asked eagerly.  
  
"Only briefly. The signal was weak."  
  
"Did you get his location?"  
  
"Yes, Captain." T'Pol leaned over her viewer and zoomed in on the blinking red dot which was still visible on the small screen.  
  
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's beam him up."  
  
"I was unable to establish a transporter lock."  
  
"Then I'll beam down."  
  
"The residual interference in the area prevents safe use of the transporters. Even if you reached the surface intact, it would be impossible for us to transport you back to Enterprise."  
  
"Are you telling me we know where he is but we can't rescue him?"  
  
"Not exactly. I believe there is another way, Captain."  
  
  
  
"Tucker to Enterprise. Come in, T'Pol!" Trip shouted into the communicator, but it was no use. The signal was gone.  
  
He struggled to his feet and limped to the door. Cora was on her feet too, watching him. Trip hoped he could communicate what he wanted. Reaching up, he pulled on the doorhandle.  
  
"I need to get outside," he pleaded as he tugged on the door. "I need to get outside so I can call my friends again." The alien stared at him in apparent indecision. What if she decides not to help me, he thought in a panic.  
  
Finally the alien took a step toward the door and Trip hurriedly drew back. Even though she had been kind to him, Trip still felt a cold knot of fear in his stomach at the thought of being touched by her.  
  
The alien pressed the pad that unlocked the door, and then she spoke in her guttural language and held up her hand in an obvious signal for him to stay.  
  
"No, you don't understand. I need to go. Please!" He pointed at the half- open door.  
  
The alien nodded at him and held up her hand again. Trip started for the door, but she held out her arm to block his path.  
  
"Are you gonna let me out or not?" he asked in frustration. The alien pointed to the opposite corner of the cell.  
  
Trip took a halting step toward the corner. The alien smiled at him, spoke a few words accompanied by rapid gesturing, and pointed again. He took another step. With the smile still in place, the alien slipped out the door and pulled it shut behind her.  
  
Sighing in resignation, Trip eased himself back down into the corner and tucked the blanket around his legs. Now that his stomach was no longer empty, it was starting to rebel again. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to keep from throwing up.  
  
He wasn't sure whether to let himself believe that he might be rescued. He was almost positive that the images he had seen after they injected him the last time weren't real, but now he was starting to lose track of reality all together. Had he really just spoken to T'Pol? Was she really alive? He found that he didn't know, and he hated the feeling of loss of control that went along with not knowing.  
  
Trip closed his eyes and tried to feel optimistic about his chances of survival, but there was simply nothing there. He felt completely empty, hollow inside from more than just hunger. The more he thought about it, the more intense the feeling of emptiness became, until he was almost crushed by the weight of it.  
  
  
  
Day 5: 0345 hours  
  
qoRa~ stopped outside the door to the alien's cell and took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if she could really do this. Could she really throw away her career, perhaps even her life, to rescue an alien, not even a real person, but a thing from another planet? She pondered that Xu'~ might be right; others of his kind might at this moment be planning an attack on her planet.  
  
Unbidden the image of the alien's smile sprang to her mind. He may not have been from her planet, but there was no question in her mind that he was indeed a person, with as much right to live as anyone else. Straightening her shoulders, she strode down the corridor.  
  
When she reached her destination, qoRa~ carefully looked both ways down the hallway before unlocking and opening the door. Once inside, she took scanned the labels on several plastic boxes of various sizes stacked on the shelves.  
  
After a short search she found the box she was looking for. She opened it and peeked inside. The contents appeared to be intact. She closed the box and tucked it into her pocket.  
  
Closing the door behind her, she hurried down the hall to the room where the 'uBu: were kept. The animals were pacing restlessly in their cages when she entered.  
  
Without turning on the light she walked to the back of the room and unlocked a cupboard where the medical supplies were stored. Sensing her presence, one of the animals began to croon softly.  
  
"Quiet, mushbrain," she whispered at the creature affectionately. It began to squeak in irritation.  
  
QoRa~ opened the cupboard and took out two hypodermic needles. She searched in the other side but could find no more. Dropping them into her pocket, she raced back to the door, but as she put her hand on the doorknob, she suddenly heard footsteps and voices outside and she froze.  
  
The 'uBu: squeaked louder. QoRa~ tiptoed over to it and slipped it a treat from the bag that was stored under the cage. The animal quieted.  
  
QoRa~ snuck back to the entrance and pressed her ear against the door. The footsteps were gone. She carefully opened the door and, seeing no one, hurried back down the hallway. Only one more stop to make.  
  
  
  
Day 5: 0345 hours  
  
The captain thumbed the comm. button on his armrest. "Archer to sick bay."  
  
"Phlox here."  
  
"Tell Malcolm and Hoshi to meet me in the shuttlebay ASAP."  
  
"But we haven't finished with the native disguises yet, Captain," came Malcolm's voice.  
  
"And I haven't even started on you," the doctor chimed in.  
  
"Forget about the disguises. We found Trip and we're going after him right now. T'Pol says the area he's in is mostly uninhabited."  
  
"We're furry, Captain. What should we do about that?"  
  
"Take it off quick. I'll meet you at Shuttlepod One in ten minutes."  
  
Archer could hear Hoshi's voice in the background. "Thank God! I look like a Wookie."  
  
"We'll meet you there," Malcolm said. "Reed out."  
  
Archer closed the channel and headed toward the shuttlebay. He wasn't sure exactly how he was going to do it, but he didn't intend to return to Enterprise without his chief engineer.  
  
  
  
Day 5: 0415 hours  
  
Nervously qoRa~ pushed the laundry cart down the hallway toward the elevator. So far she had met no one, which was good. She fingered the hard plastic cylinders of the two hypodermic needles in her pocket. If there was still only one guard at the bottom of the elevator and one at the top, as had been the case when she entered the building just a few hours before, then it just might be enough, if--and this was a big "if"--if she could work up the courage to actually use them.  
  
QoRa~ turned a corner and nearly ran down Second Scientist RuX#. He jumped out of the way of the cart, holding his cup of hot tea up to avoid spilling it.  
  
"Hello, qoRa~," he said with a smile when he saw her. She noticed that his fur was sparkly with droplets of water and his lab coat was soaked.  
  
"Good morning, Second Scientist," qoRa~ responded with an anxious grin. Her hand went automatically to her pocket.  
  
"Just started pouring out there." He ran his hand roughly through his head fur to dry it.  
  
QoRa~ made an appropriate noise of sympathy. RuX# looked down at the laundry cart and back up at her again.  
  
"Where are you headed?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Um, to the laundry room."  
  
"Oh? Interesting because the laundry room is the other direction."  
  
"Yes, of course," she responded, flustered. "I was just going to, um, collect some towels from these rooms down here first." QoRa~ wrapped her fingers around one of the syringes, hoping desperately that she wouldn't have to use it on him.  
  
"I see." RuX# looked down at the cart again. QoRa~ nervously chewed on the inside of her lip. After a moment RuX#'s eyes came up to meet hers again. A small smile appeared on his face.  
  
"Did you know they've posted a guard inside the elevator now?" he asked conversationally.  
  
"Oh really?" qoRa~ tried to appear nonchalant.  
  
"Yes, he's standing just inside the door to the right."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Well, I suppose I'll see you later."  
  
"Goodbye, RuX#."  
  
RuX#'s smile dropped and he leaned in close to her. "Good luck. Be careful," he said quietly. Then he turned and strode off down the hallway, leaving qoRa~ gaping after him in shock.  
  
As soon as RuX# turned the corner, qoRa~ started pushing the cart forward again. After one more turn she saw the elevator in front of her. A lone guard stood outside the door with his hands clasped behind his back. QoRa~ spotted a rifle slung across his back and a handgun in his side holster.  
  
Taking a deep breath, qoRa~ pushed the cart to within a few feet of the elevator. The guard's head turned toward her and he regarded her curiously.  
  
As she took a final step, qoRa~ stumbled and leaned heavily on the cart. The guard hurried toward her and took her by the arm to help her up.  
  
"Ma'am, are you . . ." The guard's voice trailed off as the fast-acting tranquilizer that qoRa~ had injected into his shoulder took effect. She stepped back and he slumped to the floor.  
  
QoRa~ stood staring at the unconscious guard for just a second. If she took his weapon--but no, she didn't think she could bring herself to shoot anyone. She did not want to trade one life for another.  
  
She pressed the button to call the elevator. While she waited she watched the pile of laundry that hid Xip#. So far he hadn't moved. She hoped he was still alive under there.  
  
The elevator dinged and qoRa~ positioned herself outside to the right of the doorway. She raised her hand to the level that she estimated the guard's shoulder would be. When the door slid open, she hesitated for just a second before thrusting her arm inside. Feeling the needle connect with something soft, she pushed the plunger in fully.  
  
She heard a surprised "Wha--", and then a man's body crumpled bonelessly in the doorway. Shuddering, qoRa~ took hold of his arms and pulled him out of the way. She rolled the cart into the elevator and pressed the button to take them to the ground floor.  
  
As soon as the elevator started moving, qoRa~ slumped against the wall and closed her eyes. She had no idea what she was going to do when she got outside. As far as she knew, only one guard was stationed there. She also knew that she had no tranquilizer left to knock him out with.  
  
  
  
Day 5: 0430 hours  
  
"The storm's getting worse the closer we get to the planet, Captain," Malcolm said with a worried frown. His shoulders tensed as he fought the controls of Shuttlepod One.  
  
The little craft rocked violently and Archer and Hoshi struggled to stay in their seats. "You're doing fine, Malcolm," Archer reassured him. "Hoshi, are you still reading Trip's signal?"  
  
Hoshi scanned her monitor. "Yes, and it's getting stronger. A little bit to starboard, Malcolm. About twenty degrees."  
  
The shuttle's nose dipped to the left and a suddenly a bright spike of light flashed across the bow.  
  
"What was that?" Hoshi asked anxiously.  
  
"Lightning," Malcolm replied. "Don't worry, the pod can handle a lightning strike, as long as it's not directly to the engines."  
  
  
  
Day 5: 0425 hours  
  
Trip lay very still under the pile of laundry and tried to breathe noiselessly. His arm hurt worse than ever, and it was all he could do to keep from gasping in pain.  
  
He was fairly sure they were in the elevator now, because he could feel the upward movement. That meant they were close to being outside, and then he could try to call Enterprise again. Trip clutched the communicator more tightly in his right hand.  
  
Suddenly Trip heard a grinding and squealing that sounded like hydraulic brakes engaging, and then the upward motion stopped. He held his breath in fear that they had been discovered.  
  
"Xip#," a voice whispered. Trip forced himself to remain still. "Xip#!" said the voice again, a little louder.  
  
Frowning in confusion, Trip moved slightly and peeked out. He jerked back when he discovered that the alien was leaning over the basket. When she saw him she thrust another black plastic box at him.  
  
Trip tucked his communicator into his blanket and carefully reached out and took the box. With one hand he awkwardly pried the lid off and looked inside. When he saw the contents his jaw dropped.  
  
"My phaser!" he cried in excitement. He set the box down and pulled out the weapon. It was in one piece and, surprisingly, looked like it might still work. He thumbed the controls and was rewarded with a high pitched whine that indicated the phaser was powering up.  
  
Trip looked at Cora, who was watching him with an anxious expression. With a start he realized that she was afraid he might shoot her. He smiled at her and very deliberately pointed the muzzle of the weapon down.  
  
Cora pointed at the door and said a few words. When Trip gave her a confused look, she formed her hands in the shape of a weapon and made a shooting noise toward the door. Trip grinned and nodded in comprehension.  
  
The alien returned the nod, and then hit a control on the wall. Groaning, the elevator resumed its ascent.  
  
When the doors slid open, Trip poked his head out over the side of the laundry basket. He caught sight of an enormous furry alien standing just outside the elevator.  
  
The man's giant, shaggy head turned his direction and Trip fired the phaser instinctively. A beam of light lanced out and caught the alien in the chest. He fell heavily to the ground.  
  
Trip peered into the darkness. It was raining hard; he could see the drops kicking up little clumps of mud as they struck the ground. Very carefully he started to climb out of the basket.  
  
He almost lost his balance and felt Cora's hand on his arm. He shook it off and climbed out on his own. The cold knot, which had almost disappeared when he saw his phaser, reformed in his stomach.  
  
Standing on his bare feet in the mud, Trip began to fish around in the blanket for his communicator, but came up empty. "Shit!" he swore under his breath. "It was just here!"  
  
By now the rainwater was beginning to soak through the blanket and onto his bare skin underneath. He shivered involuntarily and looked up at the sky. All he could see was darkness.  
  
A bolt of lightning cut a jagged path across the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. Trip winced. Suddenly he heard shouts and he turned to see two huge figures emerging from the shadows.  
  
Trip shakily aimed the phaser and fired, dropping one of the monsters. The second alien started running toward him, weapon raised. Trip fired again and that one joined his companion on the ground.  
  
Trip's arm dropped and he stood trembling in the soaking rain. He wobbled a little and then he felt Cora's arms around him, steadying him. This time he didn't have the strength to fight it.  
  
~*~*~*~*~ 


	7. Pick up and Delivery

~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 7: Pick up and Delivery  
  
Day 5: 0430 hours  
  
Hoshi nervously picked at the glue still stuck to her ear and peered out the window. Somehow she didn't find Malcolm's comments about lightning very reassuring. Suddenly she spotted something that caused her to sit up in her seat for a closer look.  
  
"Captain, I see flashes of light."  
  
"Relax, Hoshi, it's just lightning, like Malcolm said."  
  
"No, this looks like phaser fire."  
  
"Where?" the captain asked, leaning in over Hoshi's shoulder to look out the window. Hoshi pointed to where she had seen the lights. Another bright flash of lightning illuminated a figure standing next to the side of a large building.  
  
"Malcolm, set it down in that clearing. Hoshi, scan for Trip's life sign."  
  
"Aye, sir." Hoshi quickly adjusted the sensors to scan the area. "I've got him, Captain. One human life sign, three o'clock."  
  
By the time the shuttle touched down with a bump, Archer was already opening the door. He hopped out into the darkness and landed on his feet in the mud, with Hoshi and Malcolm on his heels. They were immediately pelted by a hard rain that soaked through their clothes and splashed mud onto their boots. Light from the shuttlepod cabin lit up the area around them. Beyond that, though, was only a sea of darkness with an island of indistinct light emanating from the alien building.  
  
Archer swung his flashlight in a slow arc from left to right. Halfway through the arc the light fell on a large, fur covered creature running toward them. Malcolm raised his phase rifle, but Archer held up his hand.  
  
"Wait, Malcolm. Hoshi?"  
  
Hoshi aimed the tricorder at the figure. "I'm reading Trip's comm. signal along with one human and one alien life sign, sir."  
  
The alien lumbered closer, and Hoshi could see that it was carrying something heavy wrapped in a blanket. Hoshi shoved the tricorder into her pocket. She needed her hands free if she was going to communicate.  
  
The alien stopped a few meters away and stood, panting, with rainwater dripping off its fur. It looked as nervous as Hoshi felt. They watched each other in tense silence for a moment.  
  
The alien carefully set her burden down upright, but crouched down and kept her arms wrapped around it. The blanket slipped and Hoshi caught a glimpse of blond hair.  
  
The captain took a step forward. The alien released Trip and gave him a little push toward Archer, who caught him before he fell.  
  
"We are friends," Hoshi said, with careful, precise hand motions.  
  
The alien stared at her. "You--you speak my language?" it asked with a note of surprise.  
  
"I have learned it. My name is XoXi~."  
  
"I am qoRa~." The alien gestured toward Trip with a huge blue-furred hand. "Your friend is injured. Tell him--tell him I'm sorry. We are not all evil. My people fear the unknown."  
  
"I will tell him."  
  
From behind her, Hoshi heard Trip's voice, hoarse and cracked. "Hoshi?"  
  
"Yes, Commander?"  
  
"Tell her thank you."  
  
Hoshi turned back to the alien. "He says, 'Thank you'."  
  
The alien's lips curved upward into a sad smile. She focused the smile on Trip and nodded very deliberately at him. Then she backed up several steps.  
  
"Goodbye," the alien called over the roar of the wind and rain. In the darkness Hoshi could barely make out its hand motion. She returned the gesture and followed it up with a small wave. From behind her, Hoshi heard the distinctive whine of the shuttle's engines powering up.  
  
Archer slipped his arm around Trip's waist and half-dragged, half-carried him toward the shuttle. When they reached the shuttle, Trip's feet moved in a feeble attempt to climb inside, but Archer finally had to lift him up while Malcolm helped pull him in.  
  
As soon as Trip was safely inside, Archer turned back for Hoshi and found that she was still standing in the open in the clearing, speaking to the alien in a strange, harsh-sounding language and gesturing excitedly.  
  
"Captain, sensors are picking up incoming aircraft, moving fast. Probably fighters. I suggest we depart post haste," Malcolm warned.  
  
"Hoshi, let's go!" Archer shouted over the wind. She turned and peered at him through the rain, then began to run toward him. He put his arm out and hauled her inside.  
  
Archer reached up to close the shuttlepod door. Taking a last look outside, he caught sight of several more bulky figures running toward them. He quickly slammed the hatch shut.  
  
"Better take off quick, Malcolm," he said, but Malcolm was already in motion and the shuttle lifted off the ground before Archer could even sit down. He landed heavily on the floor next to Trip.  
  
After a few hundred meters, the craft began to shake and rock with increasing intensity. Trip curled up on his side and made a noise of pain. Archer wrapped his arms around him to protect him from the worst bumps.  
  
Suddenly there was a bright flash followed by a loud boom. The pod rocked heavily from side to side.  
  
"More lightning?" Hoshi asked with a quaver in her voice.  
  
"Not this time, Hoshi. We've got company."  
  
"Can you outrun them?"  
  
"Yes, I think so, Captain. In the meantime, hang on."  
  
Archer peered out the window to see three small aircraft propelled through the air by a single propeller mounted on the tail of the vehicle. Each had two sets of wings on either side and what must have been a gun slung on the underside of craft. On the top, nestled between the sets of wings was a bubble, which he assumed to be the cockpit. Under the top wings on either side of the planes were two metal tubes. It was an ungainly machine, but the pilots seemed to be handling them with ease in the storm.  
  
As he watched, one of the metal tubes lit off and came whirling toward the shuttle pod. Malcolm swerved hard to port sending the contents of the pod, including Trip, Hoshi, and Archer, careening about the cabin. . The craft rocked violently several more times as Malcolm banked and yawed to avoid the enemy fire. Archer pulled Trip closer and shielded his head. His breathing was rapid and irregular.  
  
Finally the ride smoothed out. Archer looked up in time to see them break through the cloud cover, and then he felt that tiny jolt of weightlessness before the artificial gravity kicked in, that told him they had escaped the atmosphere. He looked out the cockpit to see the alien fighters as small, receding dots, unable to break free of the planet's gravity.  
  
"We should be docking with Enterprise in five minutes, sir." Malcolm said triumphantly. Archer grinned.  
  
"You hear that, Trip? We're going home, buddy."  
  
Trip didn't answer. His eyelids fluttered open and closed again. The captain was shocked at the condition of his friend's face, deep dark circles under his eyes, lips cracked and tinged with blue. Archer touched his forehead and felt the heat rising off his skin. He had been aware that Trip was hurt, but hadn't had time until now to realize the extent of his injuries.  
  
Carefully Archer laid his unmoving body down on the deck and opened the blanket that still surrounded him like a cocoon. Trip was shirtless and his ribs stood out starkly beneath the skin.  
  
Archer leaned over and heard shallow, uneven gasping, Trip's chest moving up and down a barely perceptible amount with every labored breath. Archer laid his fingers on the side of Trip's neck and felt a weak, thready pulse.  
  
He lifted Trip's right arm and discovered a phaser clutched tightly in his hand. Gently he opened the fingers and removed the weapon, catching sight of an open, bloody gash on his palm. When he moved the blanket, Trip's communicator fell out onto the deck. Archer absently picked it up and dropped it into his pocket.  
  
Archer looked up at Hoshi and saw that she was staring in horror at the cuts and bruises surrounding Trip's wrists. She met the captain's eye.  
  
"What did they do to him?" she asked softly, her pretty face twisted in sympathy.  
  
Archer just shook his head. "Archer to Enterprise. Have the doctor meet us in the shuttlebay. We have a medical emergency."  
  
  
  
qoRa~ stood with water dripping into her eyes and watched the alien ship lift off. She could hear the running footsteps behind her and the wail of the alarm coming from the building, so she knew her actions had been discovered.  
  
Rough hands grabbed her by the arms and swung her around and she found herself looking into Xu'~'s face. The First Scientist's features were distorted with rage.  
  
"What have you done!?" she screamed.  
  
Before qoRa~ could answer, she heard RuX#'s voice and turned to see him standing beside her. "What we should have done at the beginning, Xu'~," he said calmly.  
  
"How dare you defy my authority?!" Xu'~ spat furiously at them both.  
  
A spark of anger appeared in RuX#'s eye. "How dare you hold a sentient creature against its will and torture it?"  
  
"I'll have both of you arrested! You'll be stripped of your tenure, Second Scientist!!"  
  
"I don't think so, Xu'~." RuX# was smiling now. "You see, I've got evidence of your actions. Video evidence. If you take any action against qoRa~, I'll be forced to share that evidence with the governors and media."  
  
Xu'~ sputtered angrily for a moment, contorting her gesticulations into a series of cacophonic spasms.  
  
RuX# continued in calm, even tones, making his gestures with smooth grace that irritated Xu~ all the more, "In fact, I suggest that you consider taking your retirement that you have been putting off for so long. Besides, if you do look for your evidence that there ever was an alien here, I'm afraid that no will believe you. Apparently those records have been irretrievably lost, except for the copies I have hidden away." RuX# looked at qoRa~ nonchalantly and then sternly at Xu'~. "Either way, I should think that a change in administration is in order here, First Scientist. Don't you agree?" The final part was said not as a suggestion but as an order. With a last, large swipe of RuX#'s furry hand, the indication was clear that that was all that needed to be stated.  
  
Xu' stared at RuX~ for a moment blankly. Her head slowly moved to qoRa~ and then back to RuX~ and then at the sky in the direction of the rapidly disappearing alien ship. All the time, her gesticulations never seemed to be able to land on a specific word or phrase of any discernable meaning.  
  
Finally Xu'~ screamed in exasperation, spun on her heel, and headed back toward the building, snapping orders at a guard who was just now picking himself up off the ground. She was so busy yelling at one guard she did not notice the other, still laying quite still on the ground. She caught her foot in his legs and landed with a splat in the cold, thick mud.  
  
QoRa~ was unable to suppress the grin that sprang to her lips. She looked up at RuX# and discovered that he was smiling back at her conspiratorially  
  
"Thank you," she said just loud enough for him to hear.  
  
"No, thank you," he responded quietly. "You did what I didn't have the courage to do." RuX# jammed his hands into his pockets and shivered. "Now let's get in out of this rain before we freeze to death."  
  
He turned and walked back toward the building. qoRa~ looked down to see the indentation created by the alien ship's landing gear filling with muddy water and finally collapsing in on itself, completely disappearing. She craned her neck upward, but could no longer see the tiny alien vessel; it was lost in the clouds.  
  
She turned slowly and sauntered back toward the building. As she walked, she thrust her hand into her pocket and came upon a crumpled piece of paper. When she reached the shelter of the eaves, she pulled the paper from her pocket and smoothed it out. Her finger traced the outlines of the faraway sun and nine planets drawn by an alien hand.  
  
qoRa~ folded the paper and put it back in her pocket. Casting a final glance at the sky, which was becoming lighter as the clouds dissipated, she hurried to the elevator where RuX# was waiting for her.  
  
  
  
Day 5: 0630 hours  
  
Captain Archer sat on an empty biobed turning Trip's communicator over in his hands. The casing was warped and there was a smudge of dried blood on the cover. Archer rubbed at it with his thumb. When he had first seen Trip on the planet, he was so happy to have him back that he hadn't even thought about his condition. But in the shuttle, after Trip collapsed, he had had plenty of opportunity to notice. He shuddered involuntarily when he thought about how pale his friend looked. He realized just how close Trip had come to death.  
  
Archer looked up and discovered that Hoshi was watching him again, with a mixture of uncertainty and compassion on her face. He gave her a reassuring smile.  
  
  
  
  
  
The sickbay doors opened and T'Pol entered in an apparent hurry. She slowed down when she saw Archer, Hoshi and Malcolm sitting on biobeds obviously waiting.  
  
  
  
  
  
T'Pol crossed to Archer. "Captain," she said quietly. "We have left orbit."  
  
  
  
  
  
He nodded. "Thank you, T'Pol."  
  
  
  
  
  
The curtain surrounding Trip's bed opened and the doctor stuck his head out. "I've completed my examination. You can come in now." Phlox pulled back the curtain and gestured to them all to move in around the bed.  
  
  
  
  
  
Archer hopped down from the biobed and crossed to Trip's side. Beside him he felt Hoshi tense, and then her hand clutched his sleeve.  
  
"My God," Archer whispered. Trip was laid out on his stomach on the exam table covered to the waist with a sheet, which left his back bare. A grid pattern was drawn on his back in some sort of black ink, and in almost every square the skin was puckered, raw, burnt or blistered. There were black marks next to every wound. Trip's left arm was encased in a light cast, and his right wrist was deeply bruised. The skin around the bruising was slick and shiny from the dermaplast.  
  
"How is he?" Archer asked without raising his eyes from Trip's ravaged back.  
  
"Sleeping. He is severely dehydrated," the doctor said matter-of-factly, gesturing to the I.V. line snaking up from Trip's right arm to a pole beside the bed. "Left arm fractured in three places, deep laceration across the right palm with slivers of glass embedded in the cut." Phlox picked up Trip's right hand and turned it over to show the group. Archer winced in sympathy as he saw through the thin layer of dermaplast to the jagged red gouge beneath.  
  
"His ankles are bruised as are his wrists. I also found traces of two chemical compounds in his system," the doctor continued. "One I was unable to identify. The other was lysergic acid diethylamide."  
  
"What is that?" Malcolm asked from behind Archer.  
  
"I believe you might know it as LSD. It is an hallucinogen."  
  
"What's this on his back?"  
  
"Ah, good question, Captain. I was hoping Ensign Sato might be able to help me with that."  
  
Hoshi stepped in closer and examined the black marks. "It's definitely writing." She picked up a nearby PADD and entered some data, looking back and forth between the screen and the marks on Trip's skin. Finally she looked up at Archer with tears in her eyes.  
  
"They're names of chemicals," she said in a soft voice. She pointed to the first box. "This one says 'liquid nitrogen', and this one is . . .potassium hydroxide." She looked up at the doctor for confirmation.  
  
"They were experimenting on him?" Archer asked in horror.  
  
"Hmm, apparently so. He also has torn ligaments in his right knee."  
  
From the back of the group T'Pol spoke up. "That injury occurred prior to his capture." Archer turned to her in surprise.  
  
"He fell, while we were attempting to reach shelter from the storm. He appeared to be having difficulty bearing weight on the right leg. However, when I asked if he were injured, he claimed to be fine."  
  
Archer suppressed a grin. That sounded like something Trip would say. The captain looked down ruefully at his muddy clothes and hands.  
  
"I think I'm going to go take a shower. You'll call me if he wakes up?"  
  
"Of course," Phlox said with a smile. He turned away and began to rummage through the cupboards, humming to himself.  
  
"Excellent idea, Captain," Malcolm said brightly. "I'm anxious to get the rest of this glue off me."  
  
"T'Pol, will you stay here? I don't want him to wake up alone."  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
"I'll be back in an hour."  
  
Archer and Reed filed out, followed by Hoshi who bit her lip and cast a lingering glance at the man on the table.  
  
When they had left, T'Pol moved in closer to the bed. Staring down at the injuries on Commander Tucker's back, she struggled to suppress the unfamiliar emotions that bubbled up from inside her. She stretched out her hand and let her fingertips hover a centimeter above the damaged flesh.  
  
The doctor's voice startled her. "He will recover, Sub-Commander."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Phlox stood beside her in silence for a moment, as if waiting for her to say more.  
  
"I spoke sharply to him."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"On the planet, while we were trapped in the storm. I did not believe we should have gone there. I insulted him and called him a fool."  
  
"Ah." Phlox went back to the salve he had been preparing.  
  
"I . . . hurt him." She did not say what else she had done, that she had left Mr. Tucker alone, that she bore the responsibility for his capture.  
  
"I see. It sounds like you are experiencing regret, Sub-Commander." The doctor began to spread the salve on Commander Tucker's back.  
  
"It is . . . possible." T'Pol stepped back to watch the doctor work. He seemed completely unaffected by Commander Tucker's injuries. She found herself wishing that she could be so detached.  
  
  
  
Day 5: 1900 hours  
  
"Doctor, I think he's waking up." Archer laid down his winning gin hand and watched Trip's eyelids begin to flicker open. Trip muttered something under his breath.  
  
"What's that, Trip?" the captain asked, squeezing the engineer's right shoulder. He leaned in closer to catch the words.  
  
"Signal-signal booster relay," Trip mumbled. His eyes slid closed and then opened again halfway.  
  
"Signal booster relay?" Archer asked in confusion. He glanced up at Malcolm, who shrugged.  
  
"That's what was . . . missing. Signal booster . . . relay."  
  
"I think he's talking about the communicator, sir," Malcolm said after a moment. Archer grinned.  
  
"Well, it worked anyway. Thank God it did."  
  
Phlox moved in to Trip's other side and helped him adjust his arm to a more comfortable position. "Good to have you back with us, Commander," he said as he fussed with the equipment. Trip began to fidget and tried to lift his head. "Please don't move just yet. We'll be able to take out this I.V. in a little while."  
  
Trip laid his head back down and licked his lower lip. "Nice to be back, Doc." He coughed weakly.  
  
"We're all glad to see you in one piece, Trip. Relatively speaking, that is," Archer said, taking Trip's right hand in both of his.  
  
"Is T'Pol . . . all right?"  
  
Archer's brow furrowed in concern. Trip didn't seem to be making a whole lot of sense. "Yes, she's fine."  
  
"Good. How long have I . . . been here?"  
  
"What is it, Malcolm, about twelve hours? You passed out in the shuttle and you've been asleep ever since."  
  
"About that, Captain." Malcolm said. "We were quite relieved when you contacted us, Commander. You saved Hoshi and me from having to brave an alien city dressed as giant stuffed animals."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Archer squeezed Trip's hand. "The only way we could think of to find you was to go undercover on the planet and ask around. Hoshi learned some of the language, and she and Malcolm were getting fixed up as natives when you called. I just narrowly missed having blue fur glued all over me."  
  
"Hoshi said we looked like Wookies," Malcolm commented with a snicker.  
  
Trip chuckled faintly. "Wish I coulda seen that," he rasped.  
  
The captain leaned back in his chair and let out a relieved sigh. If Trip was able to joke about it, Archer was pretty sure he was going to be all right. His color was starting to look better too, and his eyes didn't look so sunken and hollow. Of course, it helped that the sickbay gown covered up the burned skin on his back.  
  
The doctor buzzed back over and disconnected the I.V. line. He aimed a medical scanner at Trip and smiled at what he saw.  
  
"Your electrolytes are returning to normal, Commander. I think if you felt like it you could try to sit up now.  
  
Trip nodded. "I think I can do that."  
  
With Archer on one side and Phlox on the other they slowly helped him to a sitting position. Trip swung his legs over off the side of the bed and leaned back on the captain just a little with his eyes closed. Archer saw him swallow hard several times before opening his eyes.  
  
"You can let go now, I'm not gonna fall over," he said hoarsely.  
  
Phlox nodded at Archer and they gradually eased off the support until Trip was sitting on his own, swaying slightly but apparently stable. "Excellent!" the doctor cried in satisfaction.  
  
"How soon can I go?"  
  
"Let's see how you do with changing your clothes first, and then we'll talk about dismissing you."  
  
"Ok." Trip's voice was not quite as strong as Archer might have liked, but at least he was sitting up and asking when he could leave, which was a damn sight better than he had been a few hours ago.  
  
The doctor fetched a clean coverall while Archer helped Trip peel off the sickbay gown. Archer got another good look at his back while his shirt was off. The wounds were starting to heal over, although the skin was still red and raw in places.  
  
When he was finished getting dressed, Trip leaned gingerly against the edge of the biobed. "Did I pass?" he asked with a smirk.  
  
"Hmm. I would consider releasing you now if you promise to rest for the next few days."  
  
"I promise," Trip responded obediently.  
  
"I'll expect to see you in the morning for a check-up. If all goes well you can probably get that cast off in a couple of days."  
  
"How long until he gets his voice back?" Archer asked.  
  
"That depends on the patient," Phlox replied with a smile. "If you drink plenty of water and avoid abusing your vocal cords, your voice should return to normal fairly soon."  
  
"Cap'n, let's go. I'm hungry."  
  
"Take it slowly, Commander. Try to eat some soup first, hmm?"  
  
"Yeah, ok, soup. You got it." Trip started to scoot off the bed. Archer took his arm to help him stay upright.  
  
"One more thing, Commander," Phlox called as Trip began to limp toward the door with the captain supporting him. They stopped.  
  
"I have programmed the computer with a physical therapy routine for your knee. You should be able to access it from the exercise bay. Twice a day, don't forget."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Very well. I'll see you tomorrow then."  
  
They were in the turbolift before Archer thought to ask Trip where he wanted to go.  
  
"How about the mess hall?" the captain suggested. "We can get something to eat, say hi to everyone at dinner? They all missed you, you know."  
  
Trip leaned back against the wall of the turbolift and closed his eyes. "I don't think I'm up for that, Cap'n," he said quietly. "Can I just go to my quarters?"  
  
"Sure." Archer pressed the correct button on the turbolift controls. As the lift started to move, he shot a concerned glance at his friend. Trip's eyes were still closed and his skin seemed paler. It's just too soon, Archer decided. Trip needed to rest, that was all.  
  
When they reached Trip's quarters, Archer helped him sit down on the bed. "Do you want chicken noodle? I'll have chef send it up for you."  
  
"That's fine." While Archer called for the soup, Trip carefully scooted back on the bed and leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. He supposed he ought to feel something: happy, relieved, even angry, anything. But at the moment, he felt completely detached, with no emotional reaction whatsoever. Even the hunger he had felt in sick bay was beginning to dissipate, leaving only that cold knot in his stomach.  
  
Trip opened his eyes and saw that the captain was looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. He managed a small smile.  
  
"I'm all right, really," he said hoarsely.  
  
"Does your throat hurt?"  
  
Trip shook his head slowly. "No, it feels fine. I just don't have any voice."  
  
The doorchime interrupted them before Archer could say any more. Trip felt a trace of relief. He was fairly sure the next question out of the captain's mouth was going to be, "Why are you so hoarse?" and then what was he going to say? "It's from all the screaming"? He didn't think he was ready to field the questions that would follow that bit of information.  
  
Trip heard Archer thanking the steward, and then the captain brought a tray over and set it down on the bed next to Trip. He sat up a little and tried to get excited about eating.  
  
"Do you need some help?" the captain asked anxiously, hovering. Trip hated it when he hovered.  
  
"I think I can do it." He leaned over the bowl and scooped up a spoonful of soup. The chicken noodle smell, which he normally loved, was almost nauseating. He blew on the spoonful to cool it and then popped it into his mouth and swallowed quickly.  
  
He forced himself to take another bite before he set down the spoon. He was pretty sure that if he ate any more he was going to throw up, and then the captain would just haul him back to sick bay, which is exactly where he didn't want to be right now.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Trip closed his eyes and nodded. "I'm just tired. I'll eat something later."  
  
"That sounds like a good idea," Archer said. After moving the tray from the bed to the desk, he pulled back the covers and helped Trip crawl into bed.  
  
"Do you want me to stay?"  
  
"No, I'm ok. I just need to rest."  
  
Archer pulled up the blanket around Trip's shoulders. "Sleep tight. Call me if you need anything."  
  
"You got it."  
  
"Even if it's the middle of the night, understood?"  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
Archer hit the control to turn off the lights on the way out the door. Trip almost called after him to leave them on, but thought better of it. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell your captain you were afraid of the dark.  
  
Trip lay with his eyes wide open in the darkness. He couldn't convince his brain to shut off and let him sleep. So T'Pol really is alive, he told himself. He wondered briefly why she hadn't come to see him in sick bay. Almost immediately he answered his own question: Because she thinks I'm a fool, and she knows it's my own fault I ended up being an alien pincushion. Surprisingly, the realization evoked no emotional reaction beyond mild self-contempt.  
  
Again he tried to conjure up some appropriate emotion, but all he felt was that crushing emptiness. Maybe sleep would help. Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care, right? he thought fuzzily.  
  
He closed his eyes and immediately images began to flash in front of him: T'Pol dead on the gurney, monsters with shiny faceplates coming at him, the weight falling onto his arm. Trip's eyes flew open, but the darkness and the images remained.  
  
In terror he fumbled for the control to turn on the lights. The images dissolved into the familiar contours of his quarters. He sat up on the bed, gasping for breath.  
  
There's nothing to be afraid of, he told himself sternly. Suddenly sleep seemed very far away. He pulled back the covers and stumbled to his desk. Maybe he'd feel better if he checked on the status of the engines.  
  
Trip sat down in his chair and touched the controls to activate the computer monitor. When the screen lit up, he raised his eyebrows in surprise at the date, February 5, 2153. That meant he had only been gone for about four days. Somehow he had thought it had been longer than that.  
  
He entered his passcode and read through that day's status reports from engineering. He was slightly disappointed to discover that everything had been just fine without him. The report noted that a routine maintenance on the warp coils was scheduled for the next morning.  
  
Trip called up the report from the previous day and started to read, but he couldn't stay focused. His attention kept wandering. Finally he yawned and leaned on his hand, elbow supported on the desk. His eyes drifted shut.  
  
Instantly the nightmare images returned full force. Trip nearly fell out of his chair but caught himself with his right hand on his desk, causing a sharp pain in his palm that woke him up completely.  
  
Trip decided he would be better off giving up on sleep for a while. Feeling restless, he pushed himself up from his chair and began to tidy up his quarters. If he couldn't pull his emotions together, at least he could have a clean room.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Don't worry, I'm not going to leave it there. The next chapter will be up soon 


	8. Cold Comfort

Oh, the angst! If you're looking for TLC, take a close look at the title to this chapter. Take it as fair warning.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 8: Cold Comfort  
  
Day 6: 0830 hours  
  
Trip carefully pulled on a short-sleeved shirt over his cast, buttoning it awkwardly, one-handed. Rubbing his shower-damp hair with a towel, he tried to feel some excitement about eating breakfast. He could have whatever he wanted, he reminded himself. Chef made good biscuits and gravy.  
  
Trip put his hand on his stomach and closed his eyes against a wave of nausea. Just the thought of putting food in his mouth made his stomach do flips. It was probably better to avoid the mess hall. He didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he didn't feel like eating.  
  
When the doorchime sounded, Trip jumped. He forced himself to relax before calling, "Come in."  
  
The door slid open and Hoshi stepped in, with a smile on her face and a tray in her hand laden down with fruit, muffins, a plate of scrambled eggs, and a messy stack of PADDs.  
  
"Good morning, Commander. I brought you some breakfast."  
  
"Oh, thanks, Hoshi." He dropped the towel on his bed and stepped forward to take the tray, but she set it down on the desk before he could reach her. Trip stared at the slimy, watery pile of eggs that wobbled and slid on the plate as Hoshi tipped the tray slightly while setting it down. His stomach churned and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard to keep from gagging.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm all right." Trip's voice cracked and he cleared his throat.  
  
"The captain said your voice was gone. Does your throat hurt?"  
  
"No, it's fine. Doc says my voice will come back in a few days."  
  
"Good. Do you mind if I eat with you?" Hoshi dropped into his desk chair without waiting for an answer.  
  
"Uh, sure." Trip sat back down on his bed and looked dubiously at the tray. He was positive that he wouldn't be able to keep scrambled eggs down.  
  
"What would you like?"  
  
"How about . . ." Trip considered his choices and went with what looked like the safest bet. "Some fruit salad, I guess."  
  
"You got it," Hoshi said brightly. She handed him the fruit cup and a spoon, and took a muffin for herself.  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about the language," Hoshi said while she peeled back the wrapper on her muffin. Trip cast a glance at the tray. The eggs wobbled again, almost taunting him.  
  
"The language?"  
  
"Yes, I just found the manual component so fascinating that I decided to study it further." Hoshi took a meticulous bite of her blueberry muffin, carefully eating around a particularly slimy grouping of blueberries. The smell from the eggs was starting to attack Trip's stomach and yet he could not look away.  
  
"The-the manual component?"  
  
"Yes, of the language that those aliens spoke. I've never studied a bimodal language before."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Don't tell me you never noticed!"  
  
Trip was now thoroughly confused. "Noticed what?"  
  
"Their language was bimodal. They used manual signs to supplement the spoken word. Here, let me show you." Hoshi set down her half-eaten muffin and picked up a PADD, which she pointed at the workstation on Trip's desk. A second later a frozen image of one of the furry aliens appeared on the screen. Trip suppressed a shiver.  
  
"Watch this," she said excitedly. She punched in a command and the alien on the screen began to speak and move its hands. Trip swallowed again and forced himself to watch.  
  
"See that?" Hoshi paused the playback. "Did you see how the hand moved across from left to right? That's the sign for 'female person'."  
  
Trip frowned in recognition. That hand motion looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before.  
  
"Your friend qoRa~ used that sign when she introduced herself. You really didn't notice?" Hoshi's hand moved abruptly when she said the name. Trip suddenly had an image flash through his mind, of the monster crouching in front of him, hand moving through the air when she said her name. He flinched reflexively.  
  
She's not my friend, Trip thought to himself. Aloud he said, "I was a little preoccupied at the time."  
  
"Oh. that reminds me, qoRa~ told me to tell you she was sorry, and that her people weren't all evil." With her fingernail she picked a piece of muffin off the hefty bulk still left and tossed it into her mouth.  
  
"You really understood her?"  
  
"Yes, of course. Well, anyway, there's lots more. Watch this one." Hoshi hit a control and the alien on the screen began moving again. Trip couldn't watch anymore. He looked down at the fruit cup in his lap and chewed the cuticle on his right thumb anxiously. The knot in his stomach seemed to have grown.  
  
"I thought you might want to help me translate some of these," Hoshi said eagerly. That was enough for Trip. He stood up hastily and put the fruit cup back down on the tray.  
  
"Look, I, uh, just remembered I was supposed to check in with the doctor, so I gotta--I gotta go."  
  
"Oh, ok. Do you want anything else to eat?"  
  
Trip glanced at the plate with the slightly jiggling heap of eggs and shook his head quickly. "No, thanks."  
  
"I'll take it then. It's nice to have you back, Commander." Hoshi stacked the PADDs on the tray, picked it up and backed out the door with a smile.  
  
After the door closed behind her, Trip sat down heavily on the bed with his hand on his stomach. Well, that went great, he thought sarcastically. He hoped Hoshi hadn't noticed that he didn't eat a single bite of the fruit. He also hoped she hadn't seen the unguarded expression on his face when that monster appeared on the screen.  
  
The tight feeling in his stomach was almost unbearable now, and along with it came that same crushing emptiness and hopelessness that he had experienced while locked in that alien room. He didn't understand why he should still feel so empty. He was back on Enterprise, surrounded by friends, and yet he still felt almost as lonely and hopeless as he had after seeing what he thought was the captain telling him they were leaving him behind.  
  
The comm. chirped. "Phlox to Commander Tucker."  
  
Trip reached up and hit the button to respond. "Tucker here."  
  
"Just a reminder that I'm expecting you for a check up this morning."  
  
"I'm on my way, Doc." He punched the button to close the channel and forced himself to stand up and walk toward the door. Try to act sane, he told himself, only half-joking.  
  
  
  
Day 6: 1000 hours  
  
"Remove your shirt, Commander, and be seated on the exam table," Phlox said jovially. He began to calibrate his medical scanner while the patient complied.  
  
"How have we been feeling?"  
  
"Fine," Tucker answered tonelessly.  
  
"Hmm." Phlox aimed the scanner at the commander. "Your electrolytes are low again. Have you been drinking plenty of fluids?"  
  
"Some."  
  
The doctor reset the device to scan the engineer's back. "The wounds on your back are healing nicely. I'll just put a little more of this salve on before you leave."  
  
"All right."  
  
Phlox moved around to scan Commander Tucker's arm. "Sleep well?"  
  
"A little."  
  
"And what have you eaten today?"  
  
"I didn't--I didn't feel like eating breakfast."  
  
"I see. Well, at least try to drink something, hmm?"  
  
"I will."  
  
"Voice is still hoarse, I see." Phlox aimed the scanner at Tucker's throat.  
  
"Yeah." Tucker picked at his cuticle without looking up.  
  
"Hmm." The doctor frowned at his scanner. "Is your throat sore?"  
  
"No, it feels fine."  
  
"That's because it is fine."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"There is nothing wrong with your throat, Commander."  
  
"There must be. Why can't I talk right?" Trip rasped.  
  
"It is occasionally the case that after a traumatic event, hoarseness will remain even though the physical reason for the loss of voice has resolved."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Phlox put down the scanner to visually evaluate his patient. The commander's shoulders were bent, his eyes downcast. He was chewing the cuticle on his right thumb. The doctor could see that the area around the thumbnail was bleeding from Tucker's assault on it.  
  
"Commander," he said gently. Tucker immediately stopped chewing, almost guiltily. He stared down at the blood around his thumbnail as if fixated by it.  
  
Phlox opened a bandage and wrapped it around the commander's thumb. "Commander," he said while he worked. "You have been through a very traumatic experience. It is to be expected that you would have a strong emotional reaction to this experience."  
  
"I'm fine, really," Tucker said, finally meeting the doctor's eye. "I'm not having a 'strong emotional reaction'. I don't feel . . . anything."  
  
"You may not be aware that feelings of emptiness and hopelessness are common aftereffects of lysergic acid poisoning. Have you been experiencing these aftereffects?  
  
"Maybe--maybe a little."  
  
"I have found that humans benefit from sharing their experiences with others. Have you talked to anyone yet about your ordeal?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Ensign Sato can be quite sympathetic." Phlox began to spread salve on the wounds on Tucker's back while he spoke.  
  
Tucker shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I already tried talking to her."  
  
"And how did that go?"  
  
Tucker shook his head. "Not so good. She gave me a lecture about how their language had some kinda 'manual component' that I completely missed. I felt like an idiot."  
  
"I doubt she was attempting to insult you."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Perhaps you would prefer to talk to Sub-Commander T'Pol."  
  
"Are you kiddin'? There's no way I'm talking to her."  
  
"The captain, then?"  
  
Trip shrugged without looking up.  
  
"Would you like to talk to me about your experiences?"  
  
"No offense, Doc, but you saw my back. You already know what they did to me. What more do I need to say?"  
  
"Hmm. Well, I highly recommend you find someone to talk to, soon. Your emotional state is likely to impact your physical recovery."  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
"I can give you something to help you sleep, if you like."  
  
"I don't need any more drugs, Doc. Can I go now?" Tucker was already up off the table pulling his shirt on without waiting for a response.  
  
"Yes, you may. I'll expect to see you back here tomorrow morning, sooner if you experience any lightheadedness or nausea."  
  
"Will do," Tucker finished buttoning his shirt and limped toward the door.  
  
"And Commander," Phlox said to his rapidly retreating back.  
  
"Yeah?" Trip said, stopping, but only slightly turning his head in the direction of the doctor.  
  
"Don't forget your physical therapy routine."  
  
"I won't." The door swished shut behind him.  
  
After Tucker had left, Phlox stood for a moment staring at the door. Although the commander had shown little emotional reaction, that in itself was cause for concern. From his knowledge of the engineer, the doctor had expected anger, or at the very least a little whining. This complete lack of emotion was quite unlike the commander's typical manner of dealing with difficult experiences.  
  
With a sigh the doctor began to clean up the equipment. He knew it was useless to attempt to force the man to talk. He would discuss the matter when he was ready.  
  
  
  
Day 6: 1130 hours  
  
Trip left sick bay intending to go to the exercise bay to do his physical therapy exercises, but instead he ended up at the captain's quarters. He didn't know why he was there; he didn't want to talk to Archer about how he was feeling because he was sure the captain would relieve him of duty indefinitely, and right now all he wanted was to get back to work in hopes that he could fill up the emptiness by keeping busy.  
  
He stared at the door, almost willing it to open so he wouldn't have to ring for the captain. The bland gray door completely took up his field of vision, and he lost all track of time, focusing on it. If the Captain would just appear, ask the right question, he would be able to tell him everything. But it did not open. His finger hovered over the buzzer, hesitating. Finally he pressed it.  
  
"Come in," came the captain's voice.  
  
Trip hit the control to open the door and then just stood in the doorway looking around at the mess covering Archer's desk spilling off onto the floor. The captain appeared to be working furiously on something, because PADDs and papers were strewn around in sloppy piles.  
  
"Trip, come on in. Don't mind the mess," Archer said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm fine," Trip responded automatically. He stepped through the doorway and spotted Travis sitting on the sofa with a stack of PADDs piled next to him. They exchanged nods, accompanied by a big grin on Travis' part.  
  
The captain's eyebrows went up. "Still no voice, huh?" Trip shook his head.  
  
"Does your throat hurt?" Travis asked.  
  
"No, it's fine."  
  
"Did you see Phlox this morning?" the captain asked with his eyes glued to the computer monitor.  
  
"Yes. What are you working on?"  
  
"We picked up a stellar nursery, only a couple of light years off our course. T'Pol says there's dozens of infant stars there. Travis and I are plotting a course through it."  
  
"Oh." Trip tried but failed to inject some enthusiasm into his voice.  
  
"Should be able to get some great pictures," the captain said encouragingly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Archer turned his attention back to Mayweather. "How close do you think we can get?"  
  
"I'd say about a thousand kilometers to be safe. T'Pol says any closer and we could be sucked into the gravitational field."  
  
Trip turned and took a step toward the door. The captain was obviously busy. "Well, I guess I'll see you later," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.  
  
"How about dinner, in my dining room?"  
  
"Yeah, all right."  
  
"See you at 1900 then. I'll ask Malcolm and T'Pol to come too."  
  
"Ok." Trip turned back to say goodbye, but the captain and Mayweather were already bent over a PADD discussing something intensely. He limped out without another word.  
  
  
  
Day 6: 1230 hours  
  
When he got outside the door, Trip took a deep, shaky breath. Dinner with T'Pol and Malcolm was not at the top of his wish list right now. He thought back to what Malcolm had said to him in sick bay after he had woken up. What was it? Something about the monsters looking like Wookies. And then Malcolm had laughed. And Trip had laughed along, because it was the socially appropriate thing to do. He certainly didn't think it was funny.  
  
Trip wandered through the corridors with his head down. Occasionally a crewmember would notice him and say something like, "Welcome back," or "We missed you," but mainly everyone just went about their business and ignored him. Trip didn't mind. He didn't exactly feel social right now, but he didn't feel like going to his quarters alone, either. In fact, he didn't know what he felt, except numb and hollow, like his insides had been scooped out.  
  
He looked up. Without his even realizing it, his feet had taken him to engineering. While he stood staring at the door, it swished open and a member of his engineering crew, Ensign Robinson, exited. She nodded and smiled at him without slowing down.  
  
Trip stepped through the door and looked around awkwardly. Engineering was abuzz with people, all calmly and efficiently going about their jobs. He stood inside the door watching for several minutes before Lieutenant Rodrigues lifted her head from a console and noticed him.  
  
"Commander Tucker!" she cried in excitement. Several others on his crew looked up and smiled.  
  
"It's good to have you back, sir."  
  
"Good to be back, Lieutenant," he responded hoarsely.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine, thanks."  
  
"Does your throat hurt?"  
  
"No, it's fine. How are things around here?"  
  
"Smooth as ever. We've been working very hard to keep everything up to your standards."  
  
"Great. I heard there was a warp coil maintenance scheduled for this morning."  
  
"Just finished. Ensigns Schneider and Marcus are just putting away the equipment."  
  
"Oh." Trip tried not to sound too disappointed. "Do you need any help with anything?"  
  
"I heard you were supposed to be resting for a while."  
  
"Yeah, I just thought if you needed me . . ."  
  
"Nope, we're doing fine! Don't worry about a thing, we'll take good care of your engines."  
  
"I know you will."  
  
"Go. Take it easy. Enjoy your time off, Commander." She made little shooing motions toward the door with her hands.  
  
"All right, thanks, Lieutenant." Trip took one last wistful look around and reluctantly left engineering.  
  
  
  
Day 6: 1400 hours  
  
"Ah, Sub-Commander, how can I help you?" Phlox asked cheerfully when T'Pol entered sick bay. He continued dropping mealworms into the tank for his osmotic eel.  
  
"I require an analgesic."  
  
"Oh? Have a seat on the table, please. I like to examine the patient before I start handing out medications." Phlox closed the lid on the tank and washed his hands before picking up his medical scanner and turning to T'Pol, who was now sitting primly on the exam table.  
  
"Where are you experiencing pain?" he asked happily.  
  
"I have a headache. It is not severe. A simple analgesic will suffice."  
  
"I see. Well, you appear to be in perfect health as usual." Phlox prepared a hypospray and administered it to the sub-commander's neck. "This should take care of the headache."  
  
T'Pol scooted off the exam table. "Thank you, Doctor."  
  
"One moment, Sub-Commander. Have you spoken to Commander Tucker yet?"  
  
"No, I have not. I have been. . . busy."  
  
"Hmm. You may find that if you express your regret to him, your headache will subside."  
  
T'Pol took a deep breath. "I will consider it, Doctor."  
  
Phlox regarded the sub-commander closely. He felt that he had gotten to know her fairly well over the past two years, and his knowledge told him she was hiding something, and not very well. "Was there something else, Sub-Commander?"  
  
T'Pol stared at a point in the distance. "I left him alone," she said flatly. Phlox just waited. "While I was away, he was captured."  
  
"Ah, I see. There is no shame in admitting to another that you regret that your actions caused him harm."  
  
"My. . . emotional reaction in this situation has already done enough damage to Commander Tucker. That is indeed shameful, Doctor."  
  
"I have been observing humans for some time, Sub-Commander," Phlox said seriously. "I have learned that they always appreciate a sincere apology, no matter how grievous the offense."  
  
"Thank you for your advice, Doctor, although it was unsolicited. My headache has resolved." T'Pol swept out of sick bay without a backward glance, leaving Phlox alone with his menagerie.  
  
  
  
Day 6: 1930 hours  
  
Archer leaned over to Trip and asked quietly, "Do you like your catfish?"  
  
Trip looked down at his barely touched plate. "It's fine," he replied hoarsely. To convince Archer he was serious, he scooped up a small bite and shoveled it awkwardly into his mouth. He forced himself to smile. "See?"  
  
Across the table, Malcolm continued as if Archer hadn't spoken. "You should have seen Hoshi covered in blue fur, Commander. Quite adorable, really. With those ears, she looked more like an Ewok than a Wookie."  
  
Archer grinned. "You didn't look much better yourself, Malcolm." To Trip he added, "He looked very cuddly."  
  
Malcolm gestured with his fork at Archer. "You're just lucky the doctor didn't get to you! I'm still picking glue out of my hair."  
  
Trip tried to keep his expression neutral while he stared at his plate. He didn't think he could take another bite. The food was completely tasteless to him, although he knew he would ordinarily have found it irresistible. Even the smell turned his stomach.  
  
"Your disguises would have been inadequate," T'Pol said disdainfully. She skewered a carrot on her fork and took a neat bite.  
  
"We could have done it," Malcolm retorted.  
  
"We're just glad we didn't have to," Archer said. Trip glanced up and discovered that the captain was smiling at him encouragingly. Trip felt like some sort of reply was called for, but he couldn't think of an appropriate comment.  
  
"Yeah," he said uncomfortably. He looked down again quickly, pretending to be busy cutting another bite.  
  
"I personally thought they looked more like teddy bears than Wookies, didn't you, T'Pol?" Malcolm continued with a wry smile appearing on his lips.  
  
"I am unfamiliar with . . . Wookies," T'Pol replied properly. There was a clatter as Archer dropped his fork. He snorted with barely suppressed laughter. Malcolm giggled. Trip continued to stare at his plate.  
  
When Malcolm had gotten himself under control again, he said, voice still shaking with laughter, "I thought they were cute. Rather goofy-looking." He turned to Trip. "Commander, you've had first-hand experience. What did you think?"  
  
Trip swallowed hard. "I guess I didn't think they were all that funny." There was an awkward silence, during which Trip laid his fork on his plate and stood. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go lie down for a while. Thanks for dinner." He limped out the door.  
  
The rest of the group sat in stunned silence for a moment, then Archer said, "Malcolm!"  
  
Malcolm looked around the table innocently. "What? What's wrong with him?"  
  
Archer just stared at him for a long moment. Then he tossed his napkin on the table. "Never mind," he muttered on his way out the door. Malcolm and T'Pol could hear his voice in the hall. "Trip! Wait up!"  
  
Trip hurried down the hallway as quickly as he could without running. He was aware that the captain was following him, but he had a good enough headstart that he was already around the next corner before the captain emerged from the doorway. He was pretty sure Archer didn't know which way he had gone.  
  
After a few more turns Trip found himself at the exercise bay. He ducked in the door and found it deserted. For a long moment he stood inside the doorway, catching his breath. His knee throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart.  
  
Across the room Trip spotted the boxing training bag hanging in the corner. Without even thinking he limped toward it. Pressing his left arm in the cast against his body, he balled up his right fist and punched the tough leather surface as hard as he could, again and again, picturing the smug look on Malcolm's face.  
  
The tight feeling in his stomach had spread to his chest; he felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything. Finally he slammed his body into the bag and slid down to the floor, chest heaving as he struggled for breath.  
  
His right hand felt wet. He lifted it and stared numbly at the red liquid dripping down across the heel of his hand. In some detached way he was aware that he had reopened the gash on his palm, but it evoked no reaction from him. Slowly a sensation of pain began to seep its way into Trip's consciousness, breaking through the numbness like the first drops of rain after a drought.  
  
Trip was desperate to feel something, anything. He curled his hand into a fist again and slammed it into the bag. A jolt of pain shot through him like a bullet. Backing himself into the corner, he held up the hand and stared at the streams of blood running across his palm and down his wrist. It hurt, but at least the pain reminded him that he was still alive. He welcomed it like a long-lost friend.  
  
~*~*~*~*~ 


	9. Tea and Sympathy

~*~*~*~*~  
  
The angst continues! (and maybe just a little TLC)  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 9: Tea and Sympathy  
  
Day 6: 2010 hours  
  
Trip pressed his back into the corner with his curled right hand held tightly against his chest. The pain was down to a dull throbbing now, no longer sharp and insistent, and the cold knot once again lay coiled in his stomach like a dead thing. The emptiness, which had been pushed aside by the sharp jolt from his hand, rushed back in full force.  
  
He held up his hand and examined the bruises around his wrist. The image sprang to his mind of the monsters holding him down, locking the restraints around his wrists. He shut his eyes tightly in a desperate attempt to make the image go away, but it persisted.  
  
A crackling from the comm caused his eyes to fly open. He shrank back farther into the corner.  
  
"Archer to Commander Tucker," came the captain's voice over the comm. Trip froze. He knew Archer had no way of knowing where he really was; the captain was just fishing, trying all the different places he might be in hopes of getting lucky.  
  
Trip wasn't ready to be found just yet. He struggled to his feet and hobbled across the room. Locating a towel, he wrapped it as tightly as he could around his hand to stop the bleeding. Then he limped out the door. He didn't know where he was headed, just anywhere but here.  
  
He ended up outside the small theater where they watched their Friday night movies. Since it wasn't movie night, the area was deserted, which was exactly what he was looking for.  
  
Trip opened the door and stepped in. The room was semi-dark, the only illumination coming from small running lights in the aisle. He took a step forward, and then stopped for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.  
  
After a moment, he was able to make out a figure, sitting in the front row. He squinted at the figure and realized it was T'Pol.  
  
"Shit," he muttered under his breath.  
  
"Computer, lights to half," the sub-commander said, dashing Trip's hopes of slipping out unnoticed. "Good evening, Commander."  
  
"T'Pol, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Looking for you."  
  
"Oh, the captain sent out the posse, huh?"  
  
"Captain Archer does not know I am here." T'Pol stood and took a step toward him. "Are you injured?"  
  
Trip hid his right hand under his left arm. "It's nothing. I'm fine. Look, just leave me alone, all right?"  
  
"As I did before?"  
  
"What?" he said with a tiny spark of irritation.  
  
"On the planet, I . . . left you alone."  
  
"I seem to recall you chewed me out pretty good."  
  
"That is not what I meant. In the morning, I left you. While I was away, you were captured."  
  
Trip barely heard her. Here she goes, he thought, digging into me again. He decided to beat her to the punch. "Look, you were right, ok. We shouldn't have been there."  
  
"That much is obvious."  
  
T'Pol's previous comment finally sunk into Trip's brain. She did leave me, he thought in confusion. He had been so convinced that she had been captured too, that it hadn't occurred to him to wonder where she might have gone.  
  
"So, where'd you go, anyway?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
"I awoke and discovered that you had fallen asleep . . ."  
  
"I knew you wouldn't let me get away with that," Trip interrupted with a flash of anger. "So, what, you just took off?"  
  
"The previous evening I had located some edible berries approximately one half kilometer from the campsite. I went to collect them for breakfast."  
  
"I thought you said there were more protein bars," Trip challenged.  
  
T'Pol took several more steps until she was standing in front of him, close enough to touch. "You did not like them."  
  
There was silence for a moment while Trip processed this information. "So you went to get breakfast for me?"  
  
"Yes," she said evenly.  
  
Trip glared at her suspiciously. "Why?"  
  
"I . . . regretted our altercation."  
  
"Wait a minute, are you saying you were wrong?"  
  
"I did not consider the emotional reaction my comments were likely to evoke."  
  
"Emotional reaction!" Trip exclaimed. "That's one of your underhanded criticisms again."  
  
"Commander!" T'Pol said sharply enough that Trip actually flinched. The sarcastic comeback that he was about to blurt out froze on his tongue and he stared at her dumbly.  
  
"I am attempting to apologize to you." Her voice was tight, each word crisp and distinct.  
  
"Wh-what? What for?"  
  
"For my comments, for leaving you alone, for allowing you to be captured. When you are ready to forgive me, you may find me in my quarters." She brushed by him and out the door, leaving him standing in the semi-dark with his mouth hanging open.  
  
  
  
Day 6: 2030 hours  
  
T'Pol was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a cup of tea in her hands, staring into her meditation flame, when the doorchime sounded. She said, "Come" and there was a pause, then the door opened and Commander Tucker was standing there with the towel still wrapped around his hand. He hesitated in the doorway.  
  
"Come in, Commander," T'Pol said calmly. Tucker stepped through apprehensively, almost flinching when the door hissed shut behind him. T'Pol watched him in silence. She had made her apology, now the ball was in his court.  
  
Tucker kept his eyes fixed on the floor and shifted his weight uncomfortably. After a moment, T'Pol said, "Would you like some tea?"  
  
He shook his head quickly without lifting his eyes. T'Pol waited. Finally he spoke, his voice raspy, "I wasn't mad at you. It was my--it was my fault."  
  
"What happened to you was not your fault, Commander."  
  
"It was my fault we were there in the first place. I thought--I thought they captured you too." The commander swallowed hard before continuing. "They gave me something that made me hallucinate, and I saw . . . I saw you- -you were dead . . . and then I saw the captain and he told me . . ." Tucker's voice trailed off and he stared at the floor expressionlessly.  
  
T'Pol stood and took a step toward him. "Told you what?" she asked quietly. Tucker turned his body away from her, facing the wall. T'Pol studied his posture: head bent, shoulders drawn up, every muscle in his back and neck taut.  
  
"Told me Enterprise was leaving without me," he continued in a flat voice. "I started screaming, and I kept screaming until my voice was gone, but he left, and--and . . . I started crying, and I couldn't stop. I really thought he left me with those--those monsters. I know he wouldn't do that, but . . . I felt so--so empty and hopeless."  
  
"The captain never lost hope that we would find you. He was willing to risk his own life in an attempt to infiltrate the alien society to find you. And despite his comments tonight, Lieutenant Reed would have gladly joined him."  
  
"I--I know," Tucker responded after a moment. "and I know I should be grateful, I should feel happy, or something, but I'm just. . . numb. I can't feel anything." There was a pause, and then Tucker laughed mirthlessly. "Why am I telling you this? You don't care about my-- 'emotional condition'."  
  
"Commander," T'Pol said softly. She took another step toward him and laid her hand gently on his shoulder. She could feel the tightness of the muscles beneath the skin, like he had been turned to stone.  
  
Trip stood like a statue, with his eyes glued to the floor, feeling the warmth of T'Pol's hand seeping through his shirt. He tried to force himself to relax, but discovered that his muscles would not let go.  
  
He felt T'Pol's hand slip down to his arm, and he let himself be guided to the bed, let her sit him down, watched numbly as she unwrapped the towel around his hand.  
  
Trip waited for her to say something about his bruised knuckles, to condemn him for hurting his hand, but it didn't come. Instead she tenderly turned his hand over and examined the wound. Without a word she brought a damp rag from the bathroom and cleaned away the dried blood.  
  
When she was finished, she continued to hold his hand, gently stroking his fingers. "Please, tell me."  
  
Trip continued to stare at the floor. He didn't even know what to say to her. How could he describe something so horrible? How could he capture in mere words how terrifying it was? The doctor had said that talking about it would make him feel better, and although he doubted that prescription, he decided it was worth a try. Nothing could be worse than this all- consuming nothingness.  
  
He began to speak, raspy voice still flat and lifeless. "The worst part was. . . it was all very clinical and scientific. When they--when they broke my arm, one was writing things down, and another one was videotaping, and I was screaming and crying and begging them to stop, but they just ignored me. They never--they never even tried to communicate with me. They talked to each other, but no one talked to me. . . I didn't understand why they were hurting me, I didn't do anything to them."  
  
T'Pol's fingers tightened around his. "It was not your fault," she repeated quietly.  
  
Slowly the warmth from her hand seemed to seep up his arm and into his bones, melting the cold knot in his chest, dissolving the stone that walled him off from his emotions. He felt himself begin to shake, a little at first, and then more intensely as the hurt and the fear trickled through the cracks in the wall.  
  
Suddenly his shoulders heaved. Like a dam breaking, the wall holding back his emotions gave way inside of him and he began to sob uncontrollably. He felt the warmth of T'Pol's arms around him, holding him.  
  
"It was not your fault," she whispered in his ear. Her hands gently stroked his hair. He buried his face in her shoulder, his fingers clutching her sleeve.  
  
Trip felt his eyelids growing heavy, the tense muscles in his shoulders finally relaxing and softening. For the first time in what felt like ages, the cold knot in his stomach melted away completely and he felt at peace. He closed his eyes and let himself sink down, down into a dreamless sleep.  
  
  
  
Day 1: 0730 hours  
  
The first thing Trip saw when he opened his eyes was the top of the captain's head, bent over with his hands in his hair. Trip blinked in confusion for a moment until he remembered where he was.  
  
"Hey, Captain," he said quietly. Archer's head popped up.  
  
"Trip!" Archer responded with a grin. "Your voice is better."  
  
"It is?" Trip said experimentally. "So it is. How 'bout that."  
  
Archer's expression turned serious. "Look, Trip, Malcolm feels awful. He wanted me to tell you he was sorry."  
  
"I know he didn't mean to--to rub my face in it." Trip looked around the room. "Where's T'Pol?"  
  
"She cleared out so we could talk. It's about 7:30 in the morning, you know. You slept a long time."  
  
"Did she . . ." Trip trailed off, chewing his lip.  
  
"She said you were upset, but she didn't give me very many details. I guess you'll have to tell me yourself."  
  
"I will, just not--not right now."  
  
Archer nodded. "That's good enough for me. Whenever you're ready. There's something I want you to see."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Look out the window."  
  
Trip sat up and craned his neck, and then stood and stared in awe. Directly outside the window at least a dozen infant stars were visible, their still-forming nuclei appearing as swirls of intense white light, the clouds of matter surrounding them glowing with brilliant, vibrant colors.  
  
"Wow," he breathed in wonder.  
  
Reflected in the window, he saw the captain grin. "I thought you'd like that."  
  
"I hope we're gettin' lots of pictures."  
  
"I've got Malcolm working on that right now. Think of it as penance."  
  
Trip returned the grin. The captain draped his arm around Trip shoulder and his face grew serious again. "You know I'd never leave you behind, right?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
Archer squeezed Trip's shoulder. "Good."  
  
"Hey, Captain . . ."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm hungry."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Author's Note: This story is finally finished! Please write me a review and let me know how you liked the ending. I got in trouble for my previous story, "And Justice for All", because the ending was too abrupt, so I tried to take my time wrapping this one up. Let me know how I did! 


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